


Broken Spells

by Drakey



Series: With Apologies [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arguments, Asexual Relationship, Caps Lock Harry, Draco is... so... so very damaged, Everyone Knows Sirius is Innocent, Harry and his Amazing Collection of Incredibly Poor Decisions, I have too much time on my hands, Lucius Malfoy is Dead, M/M, My loathing for the tag suggester thingy is unmatched in the annals of human emotion, Occasional Forays Into the Explicit, Oh god why does Harry have to be such a dumbass, Sirius Has Taste So Bad It Kills Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:26:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 40,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakey/pseuds/Drakey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ministry of Magic is gearing up for war. Voldemort and his followers are nowhere to be found, except for when they strike some poor innocent. Sirius Black has gone from wanted criminal to human rallying cry.<br/>All Harry wants is some peace and quiet, and a few hours alone with his boyfriend.<br/>All Draco wants is for it all to be over.<br/>But war is the art of keeping others from getting what they want, and Voldemort is pretty good at war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the series! I'd like to start off by saying that George Gershwin is a musical god, Ella Fitzgerald is like listening to velvet, and Louis Armstrong makes gravelliness okay for all time forever. Long live jazz!
> 
> Anyways, this is the start of a scene that basically this whole thing was built around. At this point, it's going to start going from crazy to totally mental to absolutely batshit, which is a fun way to start out a work.
> 
> Part ii of this fiction, since it doesn't follow the book nearly so much as part i did, can include other characters' points of view, too, which is nice.
> 
> You can expect me to alternate this with chapters of my NaNo, contrary to what I said earlier about finishing it first.

Draco Malfoy stared at his ceiling. The last three weeks had not been kind to him. He knew his long blonde hair had gone quite a bit more limp and lifeless than usual, but he would have been surprised to hear someone else's description of him. He had eaten too little recently, and his cheeks were ever so slightly hollow. There were dark circles under his eyes, noticeable mostly because of how pale he was. He gave a general impression of angularity and ill-health that was only enhanced by the depression that seemed to ooze off of him. 

Somewhere downstairs, his mother made a clinking noise. She was probably in the kitchen, getting tea. Draco found he really didn't much care. Normally--that was, before _it_ all happened--he would have headed down upon hearing her downstairs and they would have enjoyed tea together. Now, he just kept staring at the ceiling. With all the precautions the Ministry of Magic had put up to protect him and his mother, the place felt like a prison sometimes. No leaving without an escort, no unmonitored communications, every visitor and package was checked so thoroughly that no one had even bothered coming over in two weeks unless they had pressing official business. He took a certain vicious satisfaction in the fact that the man who imposed the securities making his life miserable, Cornelius Fudge, had been replaced by the former Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour. 

Not that Scrimgeour had taken down the ridiculous measures since rising to the post of Minister for Magic, but he wasn't Fudge, and that was sort of satisfying.

Draco looked over to his left, at a small stack of letters. The most, and the most well-read, were from Harry, who wrote him every other day. A few of those included little sketches, and one utterly precious letter had come with a Muggle photograph of Harry sitting in a park, perched on a swing, watching the camera with a look on his face that told Draco, who knew his boyfriend quite well by then, that if the picture were magical he would be stripping in it. On the little strip of white underneath the image, Harry had written "I miss you," and Draco had only kept himself from sending a photograph in return because Harry had told him in the letter that it would be a bad idea. 

The second largest stack of letters was from Blaise Zabini. He had been out to visit once since the summer started, but he'd said that he didn't want to go through being checked again. Daphne Greengrass had sent the smallest stack. She was full of comforting words and not much else, but Draco considered her a friend. 

He grabbed the top letter off of Harry's stack. They were arranged, though he would never have told anyone, by how much he thought they smelled like Harry. Mostly, they smelled like parchment and ink, and in theory, Draco had a cologne that smelled exactly like Harry, and polished broomwood, and green tea, but he was wallowing in misery, and he was going to do it _properly_.

There was a knock on the door, and Draco turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

"Come in," he said.

Gawain Robards, the Head of the Auror Office now that Scrimgeour didn't hold the position, liked to give a personal touch to his protection of the Malfoys. Naturally, of course, this had nothing to do with the fact that it was probably the second-safest place he could go and still claim to be working. Draco reached out and Gawain handed over his mail for the day.

"It's late," Draco said.

"There were three today," Gawain said.

Draco sat up and peered down at the letters. One from Harry, which was to be expected, since it was Harry's day to write, one from Sirius Black, which was a new place to get a letter from, and one from Severus Snape.

Draco opened the letter from Harry first.

+----+

The summer was shaping up to be very hot, and Harry Potter was miserable. He was wracked with interesting little pains all over his body thanks to an ongoing growth spurt, about which his aunt Petunia complained at every opportunity, as though she actually ever bought him any clothes rather than passing her son's old castoffs to him. His uncle Vernon refused to let him sit and listen to the news, even though Harry wanted nothing more than to hear it, hopefully to hear some news about the return of Voldemort.

Not that Voldemort would be mentioned directly on the news. Since the announcement of a number of "escapes" from "a high-security prison" earlier in the holiday, Harry had heard nothing about the war at all, not that it would likely be easy to sort out news of Wizarding murders from news of Muggle murders. He hoped he would be able to spot elements of the mysterious that would tip him off, but he was starting to despair of his chances of hearing anything at all.

His latest hiding-place for listening to the news was, ironically, the cupboard under the stairs. It was stifling inside, and he no longer fit in quite the same way as when he'd been forced to sleep there by his aunt and uncle a few years previously. 

Harry let his head thump--very quietly--against the wall behind him. The news had ended with an idiotic story about an international Slinkies-on-staircases race. He wasn't sure if he was relieved that he hadn't heard about the death of anyone he knew or ready to scream because he hadn't heard anything the least bit unusual. The Daily Prophet was almost as useless as the Muggle news, even when he read it carefully. He knew there had to be murders and disappearances going on, but nobody was telling him anything unless they didn't know any more than he did themselves. Harry clambered out of the cupboard and was just heading up to his room to hide from Vernon and Petunia when the front door opened. 

It figured that Dudley would choose today to come home early. Harry bit back several caustic comments. 

"Mum, Dad," Dudley called as Harry froze at the foot of the stairs, "Harry's listening in on the news again!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, and Vernon pounded into the hallway, collared Harry, and dragged him into the kitchen. "Sit down, boy," he growled, pushing Harry into a seat. He glared at Harry. "What are you playing at, boy, listening to the news?"

"Well," Harry said drily, "it turns out it's a fine way to keep up to date on current events." He was actually a little proud of the response. It seemed like the sort of thing Draco might have said, and anything that reminded him of Draco made him smile a bit.

"Don't get smart with me, boy," Vernon snapped. The folds of fat on his neck quivered a bit when he spoke.

Privately, Harry thought that he didn't need to, but as Dudley was home and it was therefore dinnertime, he knew better than to say so while there was no easy escape. Moments later, Petunia bustled into the kitchen and stooped to pull a ham from the oven. Dudley sat down at the table, his piggy eyes fastened greedily on dinner. He and Vernon had already begun carving their own slices by the time Petunia cut her own piece. 

While her husband and son shoveled down food at the most prodigious pace possible, Petunia Dursley ate what they left, which made her what she probably thought was attractively thin, but was actually hard-edged and skinny. It was better than Harry did with the bare scraps he got, which left him looking rangy and pinched every time he got back to Hogwarts.

She served him almost as an afterthought. Harry looked down at the pathetic little slices on his plate, sighed, and dug in. About halfway through the meal, while Harry was watching the rest of the ham vanish over his empty plate, Dudley decided to start poking fun at him.

"I heard you last night, you know, Harry."

Vernon looked up, clearly ready to enjoy a few rounds of his son abusing Harry.

"You were talking in your sleep. _Moaning._ "

Harry felt himself go a little pale, trying to remember his dreams the night before. With a certain regretful relief, he remembered that it had been a bad night, rather than a good one. A good night would have meant dreams about Draco, and he could just picture the end of _that_ conversation.

Dudley started speaking in a high-pitched voice, like a ten-year-old trying to sound like a girl. "Oh, no! Don't kill Lucius! Help me, Professor Dumbledore!" Vernon's face darkened a bit at the mention of one of Harry's teachers. "I bet Professor Dumbledore teaches you knitting or something stupid. I bet he's a dumb old fart."

Harry gritted his teeth together. The insult to Professor Dumbledore might have been enough to set him off a year earlier. Now, he just glared at his plate and bore it.

"And who's Lucius?" Dudley said mockingly. "Is he your boyfriend?"

He lingered over the word lovingly, like it was a fine pastry that Harry had really wanted. Harry had the sinking feeling that Dudley might have overheard a few good nights as well.

"Dudley, that's disgusting," Petunia scolded.

The way Dudley was smirking at Harry eliminated all doubt from Harry's mind.

"I don't want you talking about _those people_ under my roof, son," Vernon warned.

Harry really wished he had some ham left, because ham could be speared with special vigor. 

"Oh, but it's true," Dudley persisted. "He was calling out for Lucius." Again he shifted into a higher pitch. "Don't die, Lucius! I'm sorry, Lucius!" Dudley snorted. "Did you run around on him with another bloke?"

Harry's hands balled into fists. He stared across the table at Dudley, privately wishing he could blow up his cousin like he had Aunt Marge a couple of years earlier. 

"Dudley, honestly," Petunia said. She directed a glare at Harry, as though Harry was the only one responsible for Dudley's behavior.

Dudley wasn't done though. He was just getting around to dropping the other shoe. "I'll bet it was Seamus. Is Seamus your boyfriend, Harry?" Dudley was playing with Harry like a toy, and the reminder that Harry had seen neither his friends nor his boyfriend in three weeks was enough to set Harry on the edge of his seat. If he could have got his hands around Dudley's neck, he would have leapt across the table and strangled him.

"Dudley," Vernon began warningly.

"So how is your boyfriend, Harry?" Dudley asked mockingly. "Is he _dead_ yet?"

A muscle jumped in the side of Harry's neck. He stood up, his hands slapped down on the table, and he shouted "DRACO IS JUST FINE, THANK YOU!"

For a moment, everyone was too stunned to speak, but Dudley recovered first, and immediately assumed a patently fake expression of shocked disgust. "Oh my goodness, Harry," Dudley exclaimed. "You're a queer!"

Harry didn't wait. He turned and fled up the stairs. He heard Vernon jump to his feet behind him, and picked up the pace, pounding up the stairs. Harry reached his bedroom door and slammed it shut behind him, but he had no lock--it was on the outside of the door.

Harry leaned against the door, and winced when Vernon slammed into it, jarring his shoulder hard.

"GET OUT HERE, YOU LITTLE PERVERT!" Vernon bellowed.

Harry closed his eyes and vowed to figure out the most painful injury he could possibly inflict on Dudley when he had a few moments free.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's actually quite difficult for me to write homophobia. It really doesn't make sense to me, it's hard to get into that headspace enough to write it, and it's _unpleasant_.
> 
> go figure.

The door lurched a bit as Vernon Dursley slammed a massive, canned-ham fist into it. With as big as he was, there was actually a chance he could really hurt Harry.

Harry fumbled in his pocket for his wand, and as the top of the door made an ominous crunching sound under the next assault, he clutched it to his chest. There was another loud crack, and this time, Vernon shoved a massive hand through a small hole and drew it back, swearing. Harry whirled and extended his wand offensively out in front of him. Vernon's next punch blew the door wide open and slammed it into the wall, where the knob put a huge hole in the sheetrock. 

Vernon Dursley rushed into the room so fast that Harry's wand jabbed into his gut a bit and he leapt back. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," Harry growled.

For a few moments, they glared at each other, and the only sounds in the house were Dudley and Petunia pounding up the stairs, and Vernon's heavy breathing.

"I always knew you were touched, boy, but _this_ is a new low." Vernon's voice was full of gravelly contempt. "To think that someone under my own roof would run about with _men_... I knew we should have got rid of you when they dropped you on our doorstep." He glared at Harry. "You stay away from Dudley."

"Oh, that'll be easy," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Us living in the same house and all. What are you afraid of, that it's contagious? He's not attractive enough to get a bloke any more than he is to get a girl."

Vernon's eyes flew wide open with rage. "I don't want you even LOOKING at Dudley!"

"Oh yes, because it's _that_ pygmy walrus I think about at night."

Vernon turned purple. Absently, Harry thought that if he could make Vernon mad enough, the problem might solve itself. Vernon took a menacing half-step forward before he remembered Harry's wand pointed at the center of his chest. "I won't have anyone engaging in that... _immorality_... in this house."

Harry snorted. As if Vernon Dursley cared about the _morality_ of it. "Tell it to Dudley," he muttered.

"What was that, boy?" Vernon said.

Harry met his uncle's eyes. _In for a knut, in for a galleon,_ he thought. "I said tell it to Dudley."

Vernon's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What about him?"

"Oh come on, like you haven't heard him! Middle of the night, middle of the day, going at himself like it's going to fall off!"

"You were LISTENING to him!?" Vernon howled in outrage.

"Listening? THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD'S BEEN LISTENING TO HIM! THEY'VE GOT HIS SCHEDULE WORKED OUT BY NOW! THEY GET WORRIED IF HE DOESN'T START UP ON TIME! THREE IN THE AFTERNOON AND THERE'S NO RHYTHMIC GRUNTING, DUDLEY MUST BE SICK!"

Vernon started forward again, this time fueled by rage, but a deep voice behind him snapped "Impedimenta!"

Vernon seemed to run up against an invisible wall, the front of his ponderous bulk flattening out for a moment, and behind him, Sirius Black shouldered between Dudley and Petunia. "Honestly, Harry, couldn't you have kept your temper?"

Vernon rounded on Sirius. "JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

"Sirius Black," Sirius said. For a split second, Vernon remained all bluster, then he remembered who exactly Sirius Black was and turned quite pale.

"HELP!" Vernon screamed. "MURDERER!"

Sirius waved his wand and Vernon was silenced. "You know, Dursley, I'm of age. That means..." he waved his wand and Vernon was lifted up and floated off to the left, out of the way. "I can use magic whenever I please, especially if someone is threatening my godson. Come on, Harry. Get your things packed. You won't be coming back here until--"

"I AM _NEVER_ COMING BACK HERE!" Harry shouted. 

"Harry," Sirius began, "this is your _home--_ "

"THIS IS NOT MY HOME! THIS HAS NEVER BEEN MY HOME!"

Sirius paled nearly as badly as Vernon had. Seeing it was enough to take the wind right out of Harry's sails. "Sirius?" he said.

Sirius grabbed Harry and turned, and they apparated away without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The astute reader will notice that Harry is no longer calling the Dursley residence home. Suddenly, his protections are broken. Hence, the name of this fiction.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KARMA KARMA KARMA KARMA KARMA KARMA CHAMELEON!
> 
> Um... What was I doing?
> 
> So, the outline that I had has now officially run out. Needless to say, it's at this point that what I refer to as "shit" will get what I refer to as "real".
> 
> Now, back to the greatest hits of the eighties!

"Sirius?"

Sirius dragged Harry through the front gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his wand extended in front of him, and the instant they were through, he whirled, putting Harry behind his back and aiming his wand at enemies that simply weren't there.

"Sirius, Harry. What a pleasant surprise."

Harry turned around. Professor Dumbledore was watching Sirius. Harry wondered briefly where the professor had come from, if he had been expecting them or if he had simply found a way to move more quickly than Harry would have thought possible. "Albus!" Sirius cried. "Merlin! Albus, Harry's just said he's not going back to the Dursleys."

Professor Dumbledore turned a calm eye on Harry. "Has he? Well, obviously, that cannot be allowed. Harry, you must return to the Dursleys. Of course, you've been there for long enough--"

"Albus," he said, "He said that Privet Drive wasn't his home. He's renounced it."

Harry had thought that Sirius going pale was enough to shut him up. He had never before seen Albus Dumbledore grow ashen and waxy from sudden dismay, and seeing it now, he was certain that he didn't want to see it ever again. "Are you certain?" Dumbledore asked. 

"Absolutely," Sirius said. "He said it's not his home. Albus, the spell..."

Dumbledore gave Harry a very tragic look, but his face was already returning to normal. "The protection is broken, I'm afraid. Ah, Harry, I begin to think that I should have told you right away. You have just broken a protection that was set around you only with great effort."

"What protection?" Harry asked.

"Privet Drive, Harry. While you could still call the place where your mother's blood dwelt home, Voldemort could not reach you there. He shed your mother's blood, but it lives on in you... and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. Why, Harry? What could have possessed you to renounce the only home you knew?"

"They're abusive, homophobic, magic-hating monsters," Harry said flatly.

Dumbledore's face went very briefly quite blank. "It was done out of anger, then."

"Well, I imagine if someone had told me not to swear off living there," Harry began.

Dumbledore sighed. "I do make mistakes, Harry. I must beg your forgiveness for such a grave error--"

"Well, at least you could have told me WHY I was stuck with such a miserable bunch of..." Harry trailed off, unwilling to swear in front of Dumbledore quite as profusely as he might have done a few minutes earlier.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I am sorry."

Harry watched the old Headmaster for a few moments, and then sighed. "So what are you going to do?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "What, perhaps, I should have done from the moment Sirius was exonerated. I am sending you to live with your godfather, Harry, but first I must tell you, so that it will be visible to you, that the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, when you will be going quite shortly. Come along, Harry, Sirius."

Dumbledore led Harry and Sirius towards the school itself, and there, they marched in silence up to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. 

"Drooble's Best Blowing Gum," Dumbledore told the gargoyle conversationally, and it leapt aside, leaving the way clear. They went up the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office, and he walked to the fireplace that sat quiescent in the corner. Professor Dumbledore reached up to a bowl and smiled apologetically. "I shall have to name your destination for you, I am afraid," he said. "You will be quite unable to speak it to the Floo." He tossed a bit of powder into the empty hearth and green flames sprang up. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," he said, and ushered Harry into the Floo. Harry had the unpleasant sensation of being sucked down a drain, whirling and trying his best to keep his eyes opened, hoping for something to tell him that he was at the right grate.

+----+

Gawain Robards' presence now seemed perfectly reasonable. Draco reflected drily that this was probably the sort of thinking his father would have called "base egotism," but somehow, he really didn't want to be hurried out of the (relatively) safe confines of Malfoy Manor on an ill-defined errand without, at the very least, the head of the Auror Office guarding him. Never mind that he had little to no evidence that he was going to be attacked if he left, that the Death Eaters hadn't made an attempt yet, he was a high-profile target, wealthy, and intimately connected Harry-The-Bloody-Chosen-One Potter. Any sudden rushing seemed to him like waving a big red flag around with "attack me" printed on it.

He was perfectly happy when Albus Dumbledore met him and Robards just outside of the manor. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, arguably the most powerful wizard alive, watched Draco through eyes that would have looked drowsy to anyone without practice in seeing the masks behind the masks people put on. To Draco, the eyes Dumbledore turned on him were shrewd, calculating. This was the man whose pretense of eccentric affability had held off his father's most well-thought-out political machinations for more than twenty years. He wasn't boredly regarding Draco; he was deciding once again if the Slytherin was to be trusted. Draco couldn't be sure, but he thought he must have passed muster when Dumbledore smiled beatifically--but not too beatifically, of course--and held out his hand. "Come along, Draco. There have been events which you must hear of, and I think a friendly voice to relate them might go a long way towards restoring your good spirits."

A year ago, Draco would have taken Albus Dumbledore's hand only if the other alternative was death, or something equally horrible. He grasped the offered hand and Dumbledore turned on the spot, dragged Draco through a rubber tube, and looked cheerfully around a small, very Muggle street. Draco most certainly did not fidget uncomfortably. He was definitely not unsettled by being in public in a place that Muggles frequented.

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore said.

For a moment, Draco had no idea why he might have said that, but then he noticed that there was an extra house directly in front of him, where there had once been only two houses pressed up one against the other. He had seen Fidelius Charms in action before, of course, but this was something else entirely.

"Professor, is Harry in trouble?" Draco asked.

Dumbledore gave Draco perhaps the fondest look he had ever turned on him. "Trouble? No. But he needs someone he loves, and at the moment, that means you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to derail a caps-lock-Harry moment. I'm proud of myself.
> 
> Too bad that won't happen with all of them. 
> 
> Anyways, who thinks Harry ought to become a prefect this year?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow update schedule. I'm quite busy.

The sitting room Harry had emerged into was full of the contemporary wizarding idea of "modern furniture," which Harry thought was rather awful. Everything was either lime green, burnt orange, or a bizarre color that Harry could only think of as "off-salmon." He could just see Sirius ordering furniture from a catalog that made inappropriate use of the phrase "eye-catching."

Harry shook his head and stepped into the room. A big, puffy couch that seemed to have been attacked by a very angry shade of the color green huddled between orange chairs in front of a coffee table that should not have been allowed. He wondered if his godfather was color-blind or just had painful tastes. The whole room looked like a rejected Brady Bunch set.

The sound of the floo behind him made him turn around. "What do you think?" Sirius asked.

"Wow," Harry said honestly. He glanced behind Sirius, expecting Professor Dumbledore to come through, but the professor didn't emerge, and Harry sketched a quick frown. "Where's Dumbledore?"

"He said he had to go and get some people now you're here," Sirius replied. "I'll give you the grand tour."

"Is it all this... er... colorful?" Harry asked.

Sirius chuckled. "Oh, no, I had the other rooms done up in other colors." Harry felt a sense of relief mixed with a sort of mild dread. He jumped a bit when Sirius called "KREACHER! GET IN HERE!" A withered old house-elf appeared with a sharp crack. 

"Master calls me, and I come, but only because I must," the miserable-looking thing muttered. "He has brought Harry Potter to defile Mistress's house, he has. What would Mistress say if she saw, the house so changed and her portrait taken down?" Harry cringed a bit. The elf was ugly, with particularly bloodshot eyes and a nose that looked as though it had an honest attempt at escape once. White hair grew out of his ears. 

"Kreacher, go and get Harry's things from Number Four, Privet Drive. Bring them immediately back here, with no side-trips, tell no one that you are getting them, ensure that they are not damaged, and ensure that you retrieve all of them."

A look of extreme concentration came across Kreacher's face and he let out an unhappy little grunt before vanishing with another crack. Sirius Led Harry on the tour without another word. "I've already put in my will that you get the place if... well..." Sirius gestured around. "I had to have the renovators knock out a wall in the front hall, there was an old portrait of my mother stuck to the wall so fast it could be got off. I burned it."

Harry looked around. Given the way Sirius had described his home in his letters to Harry when he first moved into it, Harry gathered that this was much better, even if Sirius had made some... questionable decorating decisions. There was an umbrella stand in the corner of the front hall that Harry suspected was made out of a troll's leg. Whatever colors the front hall had originally been, it was now wallpapered in blue with an almost-tasteful touch of yellow here and there. "There were a whole bunch of Dark objects. I've been working on destroying them, but there's a few that are really tough. I've had..." He grunted irritably "Snape... help me set up spells so Kreacher can't get at them."

"You sound like you don't like Professor Snape very much," Harry said.

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but the front door opened, and Draco's voice called from the front hall.

+----+

Dumbledore apparated away the second Draco put his hand on the doorknob. Draco shrugged and opened up the door. "Harry?" He called out. "Harry, Dumbledore said you were here!"

There was a series of loud thuds and bumps from upstairs. The stairs were around the corner, so Draco's first sight of Harry was him rounding the corner, holding onto the doorframe to make his turn sharper. Harry's feet actually slipped a little on the floor before he let go of the corner and pelted down the hall, a black-haired missile slamming into Draco and wrapping his arms around him.

Harry's momentum kept him going and he pressed Draco up against the wall, his lips first pressing into Draco's cheek simply because he couldn't aim very well with his sudden arrival and very close proximity. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and let the greeting progress from sudden high-speed hug and kissing through passionate kiss to Harry leaning his head against Draco's chest.

"I fouled it up, Draco," Harry muttered eventually. Draco looked up to see Sirius Black standing at the doorway, giving him a look that was vaguely relieved and slightly apprehensive.

"What did you foul up?" Draco asked.

"There was a spell protecting me from Voldemort," Harry said. "But it only worked while I was living at the Dursleys."

Draco sighed. "What happened?"

Harry squeezed Draco a bit. "Dudley heard me having... dreams. I guess I talk in my sleep. He must've heard me having a dream about you, and he started... he was teasing me about the nightmare I had last night, and he kept hinting that he knew I have a boyfriend." Harry levered himself away from Draco a little. "He started getting pretty awful about it..."

"And you lost your temper and yelled at him in front of your aunt and uncle," Draco filled in.

Harry nodded. "Uncle Vernon chased me up the stairs and I... I said that Privet Drive wasn't my home anymore. Sirius dragged me out--"

"And then you found out that you'd just got rid of your best protection." Draco pulled Harry close again. "Oh, Harry..."

Sirius grimaced slightly and vanished into the kitchen, but the mood of Draco's comforting Harry was fairly well ruined by the sound of Kreacher reappearing with Harry's things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this chapter took me... almost ten hours to write.
> 
> There was an hours long break in there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My roommate has been missing for two days. This morning, I found out he'd had appendicitis and is recovering at his parents' house. 
> 
> If I didn't feel sorry for him, I'd murder him for worrying me.

Harry disengaged from Draco, blushing a bit, and Draco kissed him gently on the top of his head.

"I take it Kreacher is still around then," Draco said, gesturing vaguely towards the door into the sitting room. 

"I guess," Harry said. "That's what Sirius called him."

"I'm a little surprised," Draco said. "I thought he'd have died out of spite when Sirius came back if he was still alive. I barely remember him, but the little prat has to have been the orneriest, most blood-purist thing I've ever met. Well... besides great-aunt Walburga. Scariest woman..."

Harry grinned in spite of himself, but then Draco sighed and just held on to him. "I've really, really missed you, Harry," Draco began, but a plaintive hoot from the other room interrupted him. He and Harry looked at each other and murmured "Hedwig" together, then Draco took Harry's hand and they walked in to the sitting room.

Harry's things were piled there. It wasn't a pretty scene. Hedwig's cage lay on its side beneath Harry's trunk, his broom was stuck through the bars at an angle that only just stopped short of hurting the owl, several textbooks were flopped haphazardly around the room, a few photographs of Harry and Draco together were scattered around on the floor, and Kreacher was set forlornly in the middle of the little scene of chaos, staring at one of the pictures. When Harry and Draco came in, Kreacher looked up. Tears dripped off the end of his protuberant nose and fell on the photograph. "Kreacher would know Little Master Draco anywhere. Kreacher hoped in wasn't true, but he sees the truth now. Why, Master Draco?" The house-elf's weak, thready protest was barely audible even in the silent room.

Harry rushed forward to free Hedwig from her predicament while Draco moved to take the photograph from Kreacher. It was a picture of him and Harry laughing and kissing in the Great Hall. He remembered when it was taken. There had been a Ravenclaw girl strutting about in a ridiculous hat that was charmed to look like either Harry's face or Cedric Diggory's depending on what angle it was seen from. Kreacher's tears now ran down it, and Draco tried to shake them off as subtly as he could.

"Kreacher, you are to treat Harry and all of his belongings with respect," Draco said. "He is a guest in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and if he is not treated with respect, you are _failing in your duty_."

Kreacher squeaked indignantly and threw himself on the floor, throwing his head abruptly forward. Draco saw his intent and caught him before he could break his nose on the floor.

"Kreacher is not failing his duty!" the mongrelly little elf cried, even as his continuing efforts to punish himself put the lie to his words.

"I'd say you are if this is the state you leave Harry's things in," Sirius said, drifting in behind Draco, but Draco put his hand out. 

"Sirius, please. Give me some time to talk to him before you scold him." He turned a dark look on Kreacher. "Not that he won't be allowed to scold you, and be grateful it's to be him and not me, or I'd give you such a time you'd never forget it."

"Kreacher won't listen--"

"To a guest in the House of Black?" Draco said. "Oh, I suppose that's all right then. Sirius, give him your sock."

Harry snorted in amusement, but Kreacher smirked a bit, even as he started trying to punish himself again. "Kreacher can't be dismissed. Kreacher knows too much."

Draco's face fell, only very slightly, and only for a moment. "Perhaps you'd like to be ordered to stay in a little cubby all the time? There's any number of unpleasant things a house-elf can be told to do, and trust me, I _know them all_. You'll treat me and Harry both with respect, or I'll start giving Sirius ideas. And go clean yourself up, you're a disgrace."

Kreacher looked at Sirius, and then he wailed in dismay and vanished with a loud crack.

"Wow," Sirius said. "I've never seen anyone handle that awful little beast so well."

Harry let out a tremendous shout as he extracted his Firebolt at last from the grips of Hedwig's cage, and promptly fell with a thud onto his bum, holding the rescued broom in one hand while Hedwig hooted angrily in her cage. The whole pile of Harry's things collapsed, and the poorly-locked trunk spilled its entire contents at once. Four years of school detritus avalanched out onto the poor owl, and she flapped madly. The cage door burst open, and Hedwig made a furious exit and winged into the kitchen.

"Buggering hell... KREACHER, YOU FOUL BEAST!" Sirius shouted.

Kreacher reappeared with a sharp pop and Harry, Draco, and Sirius all cried out in horror and shielded their eyes. He'd started cleaning up as ordered, and had apparently decided that the order, properly delivered, deserved a bath. There wasn't enough suds.

"Master calls and Kreachers comes," the house elf said.

"Oh, Merlin, please go back," Sirius groaned. Kreacher vanished again and Sirius shook his head. "Could have gone my whole life without seeing that."

"I'll never eat Peperami again," Harry said quietly.

Harry spotted a photograph Hermione had given him at Christmas the year before lying face up on the floor. He blushed, and, naturally, Draco chose that moment to follow his gaze. 

Draco looked with mild interest from Harry to the photograph and back again, then shrugged, picked it up, and said "you've got to clean that thing out more often, Harry. You've left pornography in your trunk."

Harry turned even redder when Sirius turned abruptly. "He's left what?" He grabbed the picture out of Draco's hand, peered suspiciously at it, and then snorted loudly. "That's an entirely inappropriate use for a Father Christmas hat." He flicked his wand at the picture, and it burst into flames. "Let's get this all cleaned up, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird moment number 71: Looking up Slim Jims so I can find their British equivalent so I can make a really, really awful joke about elf dick.
> 
> Anyways, believe it or not, this chapter isn't (quite) pure fluff. I'm currently working out how to work the dynamic with Draco and Sirius, and working on getting Harry and Draco to mesh in exactly the way i need them to in order to pull this story off properly.
> 
> Also, Draco needed to scold him an elf.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a chapter I pounded out in between text messages and a long talk about Sirius' sexuality. ENJOY!

Harry watched Draco while Draco watched the people going by outside of Grimmauld Place. Draco had taken up a favorite spot in the two weeks since he arrived, and he obviously enjoyed watching the muggles, not that he would have admitted it if he was asked. Most of the time, he just watched silently. Harry thought Draco needed a television to keep him entertained. He read through the entire Daily Prophet too quickly to be properly distracted by it, and he spent a lot of time brooding, which was understandable, but unhealthy.

Now, though, a frown crossed his face and he peered out the window a bit more intently than usual. Harry leaned forward and followed Draco's gaze. 

"What is that called?" Draco asked. 

Harry watched. Three boys--possibly two boys and a girl, it was a little hard to tell--in ripped, multicolored jeans and artfully ratty jackets, with their hair spiked up in all sorts of interesting ways were passing in front of Grimmauld Place, laughing and shouting, inaudible through the charms on the window. One of them pushed another playfully.

"Punk," Harry replied, leaning back. "You haven't seen that before?"

"Actually, I have," Draco said. "It's just... very strange."

"You seem to--"

"--like them well enough, I know," Draco said. "They're better than watching Kreacher be awful." He leaned his chin on the window sill. "Still--"

"--very boring, I know." Harry shrugged. "You could try hanging about with Sirius or saying hello to visitors," Harry said.

Draco shook his head. "That's part of the problem." He turned a bit to watch the punks as they left his view. "Sirius is getting used to me, but everyone else still just sees me as either suspicious or pitiful."

Harry pressed a gentle kiss to Draco's temple. "They'll get better," he assured his boyfriend.

"Is 'punk' a thing that people frown on?" Draco asked after a few moments.

Harry was surprised only for a moment while his thoughts realigned with Draco's. "You're thinking about changing your style." He peered at Draco and grinned. "You, running about with a green and silver mohawk... It's sort of a funny image."

"I was thinking green and gold," Draco said.

Harry grinned. "Better yet. You could switch off. Green and silver sometimes..."

"And red and gold other times, just to mess people about." Draco frowned. "Maybe. You wouldn't mind it, would you?"

Harry shook his head. "I think I'd enjoy it. It'd be sort of sexy."

"I'm not wearing skintight tartan trousers, though," Draco said.

"Well, not for long, anyway." Harry planted a leading kiss on Draco's lips, but before they could get further than standing up and wondering if Sirius was going to be distracted long enough for them to get away with things, the Order of the Phoenix meeting they were being excluded from ended with a loud shout from down the hall. 

"IF THAT'S ALL YOU'RE GOING TO TELL US, YOU CAN GET OUT!" Sirius' furious bellow chased the rapidly retreating form of Mundungus Fletcher down the hall towards the front door.

Harry and Draco looked at each other and smiled. Sirius Black came pounding down the hall after Fletcher, and the two boys recited his litany of complaints under their breath along with him. 

"Sneak-thief, useless, probably a traitor by accident if he isn't one on purpose, selling bloody nicked cauldrons on Order time..."

"Hello, Sirius," Harry said with rather more cheer than he felt at having to probe once again for information. "What's Mundungus done this time?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Sirius said. "Just being his usual useless self."

"Hasn't sold any more stolen cauldrons, has he?" Draco asked. 

"Not that we've caught him at, no," Sirius sighed. 

"So he still hasn't told you what Voldemort's planning?" Harry asked.

Sirius frowned. "Harry, you know I couldn't tell you even if he had," he said.

Before Sirius could get further than that, Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor Moody both stepped up behind him, and he clammed up instantly. Harry liked Tonks, she was clumsy, but her metamorphmagus abilities were extremely cool, and she was levelheaded and nice.

"You wouldn't be telling the boys what they don't need to know, would you, Sirius?" Moody growled.

"I'd say you and I have different ideas what they need to know," Sirius shot back.

"Tonks!" Draco interrupted. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something."

"Hold on, Draco," Tonks said, her hair going a little mousy as she spoke. "There is one thing we can tell you. Professor Dumbledore asked Sirius to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts."

Harry stared at his godfather. "You didn't."

Sirius shrugged. "I might have, a bit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just say this right now: I intend for Sirius to survive. This sets up the beginning of some plot that will probably have me updating a lot more frequently.
> 
> Also, I'm constantly giddily happy on a sort of low level, but that's unrelated. I'm happy, and I may even be nice to my characters because of it.
> 
> May.
> 
> anyways, it's nice to see you all again. Don't be strangers! Stop tracking mud all over my fic, though.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And three weeks after I said there'd be more frequent updates...

Harry got his Hogwarts letter with its book list a week later, while Draco was at home. He didn't go back very often, really. Between needing and auror escort to travel "safely" and knowing that his public appearances were watched by the media thanks to his connection to Harry, Draco wasn't eager to make the little journey very often.

Draco's absence left Harry alone with his godfather in the largely-orange kitchen of Grimmauld Place, eating a quiche that Kreacher had made up in very sullen silence. It was uneasy without Draco there in the mornings, adding his own peculiar brand of bleary wit to the proceedings. Sirius had notes spread out for the lessons he was going to give, covering the table with diagrams and spell-lists and a few pictures of dark creatures. When the barn owl from Hogwarts dropped its letter in front of Harry, he snatched it off the table, offered the owl a bit of quiche, and frowned at the envelope. Something inside of it rattled a little, a hard lump like a coin inside the letter.

Harry opened up the letter and tipped its contents out into his hand, but the little object inside bounced out and clanked onto the table. Sirius looked up and groaned. "Oh, no, Harry. Here I thought you'd not go and get made a Prefect. Just like Moony... ugh, he'll be insufferable over it."

Harry picked up the badge that had fallen on the table. He could remember the Weasley Twins messing about with one that looked just like it, nicked from Percy and enchanted to say "pinhead" across it rather than "prefect". He thought for a moment and then handed it across the table. "Don't do anything too rude to it, please, Sirius... but... er... well, you wouldn't really be you if you didn't mess me about a little over it."

Sirius just stared for a moment, then looked down at the table and solemnly passed the badge back to his godson. 

After Remus visited that afternoon, Harry found that his prefect badge had mysteriously turned pink.

+----+

"Oh my god, you actually did it."

Draco shook his head fast a couple of times. The effect was actually rather dizzying. His hair was already enough of a confused blur of mixed colors, and he'd certainly had it done by a magical stylist, and one who knew their way around hair colors, because when he made his hair bounce around, the colors shifted pretty much at random. 

"The potion took four hours to set in properly," Draco complained. "Mango says they're the only person who can brew it right."

"And it comes with a price tag I don't want to think about, doesn't it?" Harry said.

"Mum said if I wanted it done again, I could sell off my Nimbus to pay for it." Draco sighed and gathered Harry up in his arms. "I missed you, Love."

Harry kissed his boyfriend's cheek and chuckled when he found a very soft growth of beard there. "I missed you, too. Sirius has been driving me mad. There are lesson notes about everything all over. I really hope the bits about banshees weren't for us." He kissed him again and changed the subject. "You need to shave."

Draco reached up in obvious surprise and stroked a hand over his cheek. His eyes grew slightly wider, then narrowed in consternation. "Aw, it's coming in all patchy."

"Well, that's all right, you're not allowed to grow a beard anyway." Harry toyed with the prefect badge on Draco's chest. They'd both gotten one, and Sirius had promptly altered Draco's when he made the mistake of showing up with it. Neither Harry nor Draco had complained much, since they had been able to thoroughly seize the opportunity provided by Sirius' distraction.

"If I'm not allowed a beard, how will I cover up this deadly weapon I use for a chin?" Draco wondered.

Harry kissed the point of Draco's chin, though he had to bend his knees to get at the right angle for it.

"Well, that's all well and good, but I can hardly go about with my boyfriend hanging off my face all the time," Draco replied. "It's not efficient."

"Harry!" Sirius cried. Harry looked over at Sirius, still latched onto Draco's face and therefore looking probably a good deal more ridiculous than he wanted to. "I'm sorry, Draco," Sirius went on, hefting a very heavy bag of books up on one shoulder. "He's been going a bit stir-crazy in here. Harry, get off."

Harry reluctantly stopped doing his remora impression and stood up straight. "I have just spent the whole summer in one ridiculous house," he pointed out. "I know it's not as ridiculous a house as it could be, with all sort of unpleasant things on the wall, but honestly, my bedroom the last two months has been neon green."

Sirius bent down to heft a soft-looking bag onto his shoulder. A rainbow-patterned feather boa fell out of it to the floor. Harry and Draco both stared at it, and Sirius turned bright red, aimed his wand at the offending garment, and it stuffed itself back into the bag. 

"Sirius, do you have a night life you're not telling us about?" Harry asked.

"Are you a drag queen, Black?" Draco chimed in.

"A dra--no, Draco, I am not a drag queen. I just... like to have soft things about." Sirius sealed up the bag with a flick of his wand. "Come on. Let's go to King's Cross."

+----+

Sirius vanished as soon as Harry and Draco got onto the train. They suffered through an awkward meeting of the prefects--Hermione had gotten a prefect badge as well as Harry, to absolutely no one's surprise, so he had to deal with her trying to look as though she wasn't watching him like a hawk--and then found Dean and Seamus' compartment a ways down the train.

There was a blonde girl with very large, almost protuberant eyes sitting with Dean and Seamus, calmly reading a magazine upside down. Dean was watching her with a faintly amused expression, and Seamus was watching her warily. She looked up when they came in. "Oh, hello. I thought you might come in here. Daphne Greengrass came by earlier, but she said she didn't want to sit with me, since looniness might be catching. Not terribly kind of her." The girl spoke sort of dreamily. "I'm Luna Lovegood. Mister Malfoy, how did you get your hair to do that? I thought vampires couldn't use hair dye."

Harry's mouth dropped open and he gaped like a fish before Dean burst out laughing. Luna turned a puzzled look on him, then turned back to Harry and Draco with a detached smile on her face.

"I'm not a vampire," Draco said.

"Well, of course you wouldn't tell us if you were. I don't mind. You're working against the Khazakhstani Magic Administration, so you're a friend to all of us. Too bad You-Know-Who has got the fire giants working with the continental werewolves. That's going to make things much harder for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to start writing Luna for weeks.
> 
> Sirius' odd proclivities are very amusing for me. It's all perfectly rational, but you're only getting Harry and Draco's perspective so far. It's gonna look really zany and disconnected for a while.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omigawd, it has been a while. I'm job-searching right now, and having a brand-new (and very sweet) boyfriend kinda eats up a lot of my time, but I've been wanting to add this chapter for ages.

Sirius Black grunted and tossed his bag onto the bed in the corner of his new office. Its previous inhabitant had left behind about three inches of dust. The office that usually belonged to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was still being gone over with almost unnatural care by the Aurors. Given that Sirius didn't want to deal with diagnostic and investigative spells all year, he had taken the offer of the office that had belonged, three hundred years ago, to the Ritual Magic Professor. An aura of boringness clung to the space, even after the house elves had scrubbed it down and put in a particularly vibrant painting of a farmhouse with the brightest red barn imaginable in the background. Sirius opened up his bag with a casual flick of his wand as he reflected on the Welcoming Feast. The students had reacted to his being appointed Defense Professor with obvious surprise, but considering the other options, he thought it was probably a decent reaction. At least most people hadn't been afraid. One of the students at the Ravenclaw table had shrieked "Way to go, Stubby!" when Albus announced why Sirius was sitting at the staff table, but that was puzzling more than worrying. He could deal with nicknames.

Sirius began levitating posters to the walls out of his bag, and was just about to start working on his personal belongings when there was a knock on the door. He charmed the bag closed and called out, "come in!"

The door creaked open, and Severus Snape peered around with obvious disdain. "I see your poor taste is endemic to you, rather than to your domicile. I shall thank my lucky stars that you have not painted the walls, else I might have been blinded. I have come to show you the way to the faculty lounge."

"I already know it, thanks," Sirius said cheerfully. 

"Naturally," Snape replied.

"Sniv--Severus... Have you seen Albus? I wanted to thank him for getting me out of Grimmauld Place, and find out if he had any advice for me."

Snape stopped short. "I believe you will find him in his office. I am sure that you know the way by now. His current password," and here, the potionmaster's face scrunched up in clear distaste, "is gumdrop."

Sirius watched as Snape closed the door, then he moved the rest of his things into storage, pushed his bed into a little pocket of extra room that the castle seemed all too happy to provide for him, and double-checked to make sure everything was locked securely away before he hurried off to the Headmaster's office.

+----+

there was absolutely no discussion of whether or not Dean and Seamus would be sharing a bed. By the time Harry got into the dormitory, they were curled up together on Dean's bed, with Dean resting his head on Seamus' lap. Neville and Weasley were apparently arguing over who got to put his things on Seamus' bed, and Harry walked over, listening quietly before either of the two boys noticed him, then cleared his throat and said "Seamus, use your own bed. If you really have to sleep with Dean, you two can trade off, but I'm not listening to any more of this argument."

Weasley turned a venomous glare on Harry, and Harry raised an eyebrow. "Problem, Weasley?"

"You just don't want me to get it."

"If that was it, I'd have given it to Neville or called that as the prefect, I ought to get the extra space." Harry pointed to Seamus. "He oughtn't be sleeping out of his own bed anyways, but if I had a knut for every thing we've all done that we oughtn't, Draco might be accused of liking me for my money." He turned a mildly irritable look on Seamus and Dean. "If I catch you two shagging in here, there'll be hell to pay."

Weasley cleared his throat, and Harry turned to find a confrontational look doing its best to make Weasley's freckles seem unfriendly. He opened up his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off. "If my being a prefect won't scare you, then maybe this will: I will tell Hermione if you're a prat to me. I know she'd rather leave it all behind, and she won't be happy to hear about you starting fights. We can ignore each other, I hope." Harry turned and headed to his bed, into which he flopped with as little visible anger as he could manage. He heard Weasley arranging to switch beds with Neville so he would be sleeping as far from Harry as possible, and when Neville settled into the bed nearest his own, Harry looked over at him. "All right, Neville?"

"'Lo, Harry," Neville replied. "Didn't think you'd mind me switching with Ron, as it keeps you and him away from each other."

Harry sighed. "I reckon this is going to be a very long year."

+----+

Gregory Goyle had Vincent Crabbe in a headlock when Draco walked into the dormitory. He ignored them in favor of calmly putting up and warding his possessions. Once everything was set up according to his desires, he turned around and found the two boys still on the floor, although now Goyle was trying to break out of Crabbe's sleeper hold. Draco puffed out his chest, letting the light catch his prefect badge. "Whoever wins this fight gets a detention, and I'm recommending that it be served with Sprout."

Both Crabbe and Goyle froze in mid-fight. 

"Careful Draco," Blaise Zabini said from behind a comic book. Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle hopped animatedly around inside of his panels as Blaise lowered his comic book a bit to peer over the edge. "Trying to use logic against those two, you're liable to set their brains on fire."

"Good," Draco said. "I'd rather Gregory not get himself in trouble, and he won't be hurt much by his brain catching fire. He hardly uses it anyway."

"Thanks Draco," Goyle said as he extracted himself gently from Crabbe's hold. "I won't get caught fighting again."

Draco sank down on his bed and tracked Theodore Nott across the dormitory with his eyes alone as the other Slytherin made his way to his bed. "See that you aren't, Gregory," he said. "Daphne won't be as forgiving as I am."

+----+

Sirius inhaled deeply and let out the most perfectly contented sigh of the day as the scent of peppermint wafted up to him from his cup. Albus Dumbledore's wide selection of teas had included a black tea with peppermint in it, and he simply had to try it. "Thank you again, Albus," Sirius said. "For the opportunity, I mean. And the tea. It smells wonderful."

Albus Dumbledore smiled genially. "I should hope so. It was a great deal of trouble to attain it, after all. The shop had a great deal in stock, after all, and I was harrowed by the plethora of choices available to me."

"Well, your adventures in tea selection have not gone unappreciated." Sirius smiled over the rim of his cup and Albus twinkled a smile back to him.

"I am quite afraid I rarely have the stomach for that particular variety. It carries a rather strong flavor, and my poor insides simply cannot handle it all the time." Dumbledore looked mournfully down at his own cup of Earl Grey, shrugged, and sipped gently. "I take it you intend to plead Harry's case regularly?"

"Well, as it happens, I do," Sirius replied. "However, I'm here for your advice tonight. I'm afraid I haven't done much teaching. Have you got any tips for me?"

The Headmaster favored Sirius with a half-puzzled look. "Beyond advice on specific students, which I assure you Minerva, or another of the regular professors, could offer you more accurately and in greater detail than I, it is hardly possible to give true advice on the subject of teaching. I assure you, Sirius, I asked you to perform the task because I believed you to be both trustworthy and quite capable. In the aftermath of Tom Riddle's very public return, I have found myself on the receiving end of a veritable deluge of quite-patriotic offers to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, some of them, in fact, quite possibly genuine. If you were not better qualified, you would not be sitting in that chair."

Sirius smiled. "Are you certain you don't just prefer my company?"

"My preference for you over Madeline Deschutes is only a minor factor, Sirius. I will admit that I am pleased to enjoy the company of someone with a more melodious voice than her... distinctive tones." Dumbledore sipped delicately at his cup and set it down again. "Your skills will emerge in time, I assure you. You'll prove a most able instructor."

Sirius sipped his tea. It was delicious.

+----+

The fourth years stared at Sirius as he leaned back against his desk. Their jaws hung open and they all looked a little shellshocked. Either he had done well, or he had just traumatized an entire classroom. 

Someone started applauding, and Sirius figured he was probably okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not 100% sure what Sirius did for that first lesson, but it's probably pretty amazing.
> 
> Dumbledore's extra offers for the DADA position are probably almost all from Ministry officials who think they'd be safer at Hogwarts. 
> 
> Snape thinks Dumbledore is silly and frivolous. He is correct, but that's what I like about Dumbledore.
> 
> And yes, Draco, that is the fastest way to break up a fight: promise to punish the winner and they'll only keep fighting if they both think it's worth it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter without a plan for Sirius' lesson. I'm pleased with how it turned out.

Harry woke up on the evening of the third of September with a small ache in the back of his neck. Given when he had got to sleep, he was vaguely pleased to have awoken at all, and even more pleased to see that the sunlight streaming in the window was still morning sun. Weasley was bickering with Neville, but that was nothing new. Harry yawned, told them to stop, went to get showered, and was pleased to see all the boys from the fifth year dormitory lounging around the common room when he returned. Seamus and Dean waved him over and he followed them down to breakfast.

"So what's Black got planned for us?" Dean asked.

Harry shrugged. "Knowing Sirius, it's going to be good, but I don't know beyond that." He pondered his knowledge of his godfather for a moment, and then added, in a considering tone, "but if he gives you advice on interior decoration, ignore it. His house is done up in various shades of 'Oh, Merlin, why?' and 'my poor innocent eyes.'"

"Really?" Seamus said.

"I sleep on an electric-blue bed in a forest-green room," Harry said. "It's one of the more soothing color combinations."

Dean winced, and Harry was about to say more when he spotted Draco coming around the corner. Draco turned, speaking to someone behind him, just out of sight, and then rushed to meet up with Harry. Gregory Goyle followed him at a more sedate pace. 

"I still can't get used to what you've done to your hair," Seamus said matter-of-factly to Draco, and Draco shrugged.

"Looking forward to the lesson on dragons today, Harry?" Draco asked.

Harry blinked. "How do you know?"

Draco looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I've been in his house while he put together lesson plans, and I know the man. We're doing dragons today. He'll start us off with something impressive. Dragons."

"Well, it's dragons, then," Dean said. "If Draco says it's dragons, it's dragons."

"Oh come on, Dean," Seamus objected. "Just because he sussed out Skeeter last year, you think he knows everything."

"Actually, he's just trying to charm his way into my bed," Draco said.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and gave Dean a mock-fearsome look. His deathgrip on his boyfriend had loosened somewhat by the time they got to the Great Hall. Sirius was talking to Professor Dumbledore, but when Harry came in, he looked up and waved. Harry caught Draco mouthing "dragons" in Sirius' general direction, and Sirius sketched an innocent look before turning back to his conversation with the headmaster. Harry and Draco went to their separate tables and Dean started enthusing about what Sirius was going to do to teach them about dragons. He seemed to be of the opinion that Sirius, being a friend of Remus Lupin, would teach the same way, and they should therefore expect to find a small dragon waiting for them in the classroom.

"I bloody well hope not," Harry mumbled under his breath when Dean brought up the idea. He certainly didn't want to deal with a second Norbert, nor did he fancy the idea of Hagrid eagerly dragging his own classes into the defense classroom to coo over a vicious little flamethrower with legs.

+----+

The fifth years, apparently, had had a rough time in the greenhouses. Sirius chuckled as Ron Weasley plucked thorns out of Hermione Granger's hair, and Neville Longbottom, of course, walked in happy and clean, as though he had been sitting back on a deck chair drinking a pina colada instead of fighting off a venomous tentacula. Everyone took their seats--some of them with sharp winces--and Sirius smiled. Harry was without his usual Slytherin accompaniment, but Draco Malfoy had been through before, and had warned Sirius that Harry and his friends were probably expecting dragons. Or at least that his friends were. As much time as Harry had spent with Draco over the last year, he knew better than to think that his boyfriend was infallible. 

Of course, the point was moot, since Sirius hadn't intended the first lesson to be about dragons at all. He waved his wand at the chalkboard, and elegant, half-calligraphic letters appeared, spelling out his name, and a few goals for the lessons for the first few weeks. He watched as the class wrote down what was on the board, and took the time to walk between the desks. When he got back up to his own desk at the head of the room, he turned back to address them. "I see we'll be wanting a penmanship instructor here at Hogwarts." Jaws dropped across the room. Sirius shrugged. "I expect your essays will be a bit more neatly written, but you won't need to write one for me today. Today, we'll be answering a question. That being--" the words appeared on the chalkboard as he spoke them-- "what is a dark wizard's greatest weapon?"

Harry's hand was the first one in the air. Sirius looked around. "Anyone?" He sighed theatrically and gestured to Harry. "Very well..." he glanced pointedly down at the papers on his desk. "Potter, was it?"

That provoked laughter around the classroom, and Harry spoke up. "A dark wizard's greatest weapon is fear," he said confidently.

"Excellent," Sirius said as the word "fear" appeared on the chalkboard. "Anyone else?"

Ernie Macmillan, one of the Hufflepuffs, raised his hand. Sirius pointed. "What about his wand?" Macmillan said.

Sirius nodded and the word appeared on the blackboard under "fear."

"Anyone else?"

By the end of the class, the general consensus seemed to be that the ability to spread chaos was a dark wizard's real greatest weapon. There had been much discussion, upon the mention of chaos, of the Weasley twins. Sirius had had tales of them from Harry, and had met them odd pair the day before, and was thoroughly convinced that they could be as great a threat to the wizarding world as Voldemort if only they were less relentlessly happy. As class wrapped up, Sirius took up leadership of the discussion again. "Now, I want you all to think about this. Chaos can be spread by fear, and by suspicion, and by everything else we've discussed. Think about some other ways to spread chaos, and we'll start seeing who's got the chops to cut through pandemonium. Next week, we're talking about what sorts of magical creatures a dark wizard might unleash to disorganize his enemies." He winked at Harry. "That might include dragons, so you don't want to miss it."

Harry hugged Sirius while the rest of the class was filing out. "You did really well, Sirius," he said.

Sirius just smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Sirius may have deliberately confused Draco. I also really enjoy the fancy, fancy, fancy, super-fancy handwriting he conjures on the board. 
> 
> It's actually a little hard to remember what Draco has done to his hair. I had to remind myself in mid-chapter. incidentally, I want that treatment.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hard to remember that Hagrid isn't there...

Sirius was startled to see the owl land in front of him on Friday. It deposited its message in his hands and left without so much as a hoot. He opened the letter and frowned at the newspaper clipping that fell out, glancing over at Albus. The enigmatic old Headmaster mournfully mirrored Sirius' expression and waggled his eyebrows, his hands stretched in front of him in a what-can-you-do gesture of resignation.

Sirius nodded tersely and turned to watch the students.

+----+

Angelina Johnson was the new captain of the quidditch team. Harry walked with her to the quidditch pitch after regretfully sending Draco off to study alone in the library. "So," Angelina said, "You know you're not to tell your Slytherin any of what we're practicing, right?"

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Really, Angelina? Why would I do that?"

She shrugged. "As long as it's clear. I just don't want the Slytherins knowing about what we're working on."

"Angelina, I wouldn't tell Draco what we're doing in practice."

She blinked. "Do you think you could get him to--"

"No."

They walked on in silence until Angelina groaned irritably. She was looking at the long line of students waiting to try out for the open Keeper spot. "Merlin's saggy left bollock, Weasley's here," she grumbled.

Harry heaved a sigh and tried not to let Ron Weasley notice him. Ginny was standing behind her brother, and she elbowed him and pointed to Harry and Angelina. Soon, both Weasleys were looking at them.

"Hey, Angelina!" Ron shouted. "You're not letting him play this year, are you?"

Angelina stopped short. "I don't see why not, Weasley."

He pointed at Harry. "He's dating a Slytherin! He'll tell them all about us!"

Harry reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He could see Ginny burying her face in her hands. She angled her head towards her brother a bit, possibly begging him to stop being such a prat and embarrassing her. Harry hoped that was what it was.

Angelina watched the Weasleys for a moment. The twins were slowly approaching, and Harry was starting to fear a united front of Weasleys arguing against him when Angelina interrupted Ron's bluster with a sharp, "If that was enough to stop me playing him, your sister would be stepping out of line right now. Ginny, how are things going with Anders?"

All three assembled Weasley boys made shocked choking sounds. Harry grinned as Ron turned to Ginny and exclaimed "Anders Bulstrode!?"

"He's really nice," Ginny said in a small voice. "Not like his cousin at all."

To Harry's surprise, the twins hurried up to Ginny and started talking excitedly about Anders Bulstrode, cutting Ron off from the conversation entirely. He tried to push in a couple of times and yell at Ginny for dating a Slytherin, but Fred or George would immediately elbow him out of the way. Eventually, he threw his arms up in the air and stalked away. On his way to the castle, he passed Neville. Neville hurried up to the line, glancing nervously around. Fred and George hurried over to Harry.

"Hullo, Harry," one of them (Harry arbitrarily labeled him "Fred") said cheerfully. "Sorry about Ron."

"He's been taking prat lessons," George added helpfully.

"His tutor says he's making a tool of himself at journeyman levels already."

"Which is a good thing, because he's got to have a career to look forward to after Hogwarts."

"And you really need to be a master to find jobs in the illustrious field of pratting."

"At least we haven't got to deal with the shame of him being a prefect on top of it all."

"Speaking of which,"

"Your badge has gone pink,"

"And it wasn't us that did it."

"Has somebody else been pranking you?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah. Sirius got to it. He keeps saying it's better than that, but I haven't seen how yet."

The twins grinned at him and swept him along to the stands to watch the tryouts.

Neville did surprisingly well for the boy who had barely been able to handle a broom in first year, but the real star was Cormac Mcleggan, who was abrasive, unpleasant, and very skilled. Harry recommended him to Angelina, and she shrugged and said she was probably going to put him in. 

+----+

Sirius arrived early in the Headmaster's office. Albus was waiting, a frown spread across his face as he perused a thick tome. "Good evening, Sirius," he said. He turned deep blue eyes on his guest and sketched a brief smile, waving his wand. A plush armchair appeared in front of his desk, and a cup and saucer appeared on the edge of the desk. "The roobois chai tonight?"

Sirius nodded. "Please." 

The cup filled itself and Albus leaned back. "How are your students taking to you?"

"Quite well," Sirius said. "On that note, though, don't you think that Harry ought to be included in this meeting?"

"No, Sirius," Albus said. "I don't wish to take his childhood from him any more than it already has been."

"But surely you see the importance of this development," Sirius protested. "Albus, there may not be a choice soon!" 

Albus shook his head. "I am sorry, Sirius, but there can be no compromise on this matter. Harry will know when it becomes necessary, and not a moment sooner."

"And if the unexpected happens?"

Albus hung his head and took a deep breath.

Sirius was about to push further when the door opened and Severus Snape walked in with Minerva McGonagall. Almost immediately afterward, the fireplace flared up in green flames and spat out Alastor Moody. The whole party of them took seats, and Albus fixed up drinks for them. Moody didn't touch his, drinking instead out of his customary hip flask, though he poured a splash of its contents rather pointedly into his tea cup first to establish that his flask wasn't full of polyjuice potion.

Albus sighed. "I believe we're all aware of what happened to Hestia Jones last night."

Moody grunted. "She must have got herself imperiused, the foolish woman."

Severus (Sirius was pleased with his progress in not thinking of the head of Slytherin as "Snivellus," but it still felt damn weird) put in, "This certainly proves what I suspected. The Dark Lord is aware of the prophecy and has correctly deduced that it contains information vital to him. He has no other reason to attempt to steal it. It is a risky enough proposition to retrieve a prophecy with the full permission of the Ministry. In this case, I believe the proper course is to take the prophecy from the ministry and remove it to Grimmauld Place."

Albus hesitated before he spoke long enough that Moody was able to cut in. "We might use the opportunity to set a trap for the moldy old bastard. If we make the place look guarded, we can convince him the prophecy is still there. He might go to get it himself. Our guard 'loses his nerve,' flees, and we close the trap. Maybe we could set up a ward to make doubly sure."

Albus shook his head. "We won't retrieve the prophecy yet. Severus has just gotten done pointing out the risks involved. I won't put Harry in danger like that unless it's absolutely necessary."

Sirius sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, there's a plot! This feels like a longer chapter, but it was pretty relaxing to write it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to turn the plot a little screwy. It's fun!

"I don't know, Draco," Dean said. "I mean, I'm sure Harry would love it in... you know... in private, but it's a bit much for... er..."

"Walking around," Seamus put in. 

"One thing," Dean noted with a certain measure of chagrin, "you wear that anywhere near a muggle and they'll think you're mental."

"But it's a muggle catalog," Draco protested, rattling the catalog in his hands. "I don't know why they'd offer a lime-green kilt if it's not fashionable."

"Because it's nineteen-ninety-five and society is dead," Dean deadpanned.

"That, mate, is about shock value. If you want to impress Harry with muggle clothes, you ought to move on from anything that color," Seamus said. "I know, Dean took me clothes shopping over the summer. Dean, and his mum, and some girl he lives next to who would not shut up about how we're a cute couple."

Dean chuckled. "Amanda is just excited about you because she laid down a tenner on my being gay a couple of years ago." He shrugged. "Gran was disappointed. She put twenty quid on me getting some girl pregnant by now."

Draco leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The Great Hall was providing a lovely view of a late-October sky, slightly cloudy and promising full overcast by the time of the Halloween feast that evening. Draco turned to the next page in the catalog, but Seamus pulled it out of his hands before he could look at what was there. A few moments later, Harry sat down next to Draco, greeting him with a tired kiss. He looked haggard and worried, and Draco frowned.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Draco asked.

Harry's head slumped to the tabletop. They were sitting at the Slytherin table, which was draped with green in anticipation of the evening's feast. Draco thought absently that he looked good contrasted with Slytherin green like that. "Yeah," Harry said. "Had a nap, but it wasn't exactly restful."

"Nightmare?" Draco said sympathetically. He knew his boyfriend tended to have nightmares, and he'd soothed away a few of them.

Harry nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged. "I don't know. It wasn't a good dream. It was..." he shook his head a bit more. "There was something about a snake. All very confused. I think someone was screaming." He rubbed at his forehead.

"Harry, did you wake up with your scar hurting?" Draco asked.

Harry sighed. "Only a little. It's probably just a headache."

"Harry," Draco said warningly.

"If it happens again, I'll tell Professor Snape."

+----+

Severus Snape had an odd habit of staring at any problem like he was trying to make it explode with nothing but the force of his glare. It was, Sirius reflected idly, not something he would likely have noticed if Albus hadn't put him on Hogwarts staff. This going about in pairs business was annoying, but at least he was getting used to being around Severus. Sirius might not like being around Snape, but their getting along made Albus happy, and when Albus Dumbledore was happy, everyone else tended to be happy.

"Are we done yet?" Sirius asked.

Severus flicked his wand back into the sleeve of his robe and scowled at Broderick Bode. Bode continued to whistle. Severus looked up, still scowling, at the mediwitch tending to Bode. "You ask more of the potioneer's art than it can provide. You will have to be patient. And guard him until he can give details. Scrimgeour's guess was correct. He has been Imperiused. He may reveal who cast the spell when he recalls that he is not a teapot." Bode leaned forwards, his mouth open, and carefully drooled into a teacup, which he offered to Severus. Severus turned such a severe look on him that the man withdrew the cup without comment.

"Really?" the mediwitch said. "Surely there must be a potion in your stores, or one that you can brew, that can restore him at least temporarily?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "If I should be injured, I hope and pray that my time at St. Mungo's does not include you. How you earned the necessary N.E.W.T.s to enter your chosen field is beyond me. Potions are not a club with which to batter away any malady you cannot undo with a wave of your wand. Exercise a little patience." He seemed finished berating her, but then he broke in with "and consider a new career. I would suggest that you would do well as someone's secretary, since that is a position that affords few opportunities to kill someone with incompetence." He turned and walked away, gesturing for Sirius to follow him. 

Sirius looked regretfully back at the mediwitch, who was tearing up, but followed Snape out into the corridor. "What in bloody hell was that?"

"I believe it is commonly referred to as a scolding," Severus replied.

"You traumatized the poor girl!"

"And now perhaps she won't damage her patients with unhealthy amounts of potions."

"Bollocks!" Sirius shouted. Someone echoed him from inside the Janus Thickey Ward. "You enjoyed doing that!"

"That is irrelevant," Severus said. "What is relevant is that by now, the Dark Lord knows that either he or Harry Potter must be the one to retrieve the prophecy."

Sirius stopped in his tracks for a moment and watched the swirling of black robes as Snape swept on down the hallway.

+----+

Albus sipped at his tea and regarded Sirius fondly over the rim of the cup. "You're perfectly correct, of course, Sirius," he said. "With Severus' information, we can predict Voldemort's next move. He will either try to retrieve the prophecy himself or attempt to send Harry, and he knows that he does not yet have the strength to enter the Ministry of Magic with impunity. I will increase the security around Harry right away."

Sirius blinked. "You--"

Albus smiled at him, and his eyes twinkled merrily. "He is quite as important to me as he is to you, Sirius. and keeping him safe is doubly important because of that. After all, your happiness is nearly as important as Harry's safety. That the two so often coincide can only increase my affection for you."

Sirius left Albus' office feeling vaguely unbalanced, as though he was playing a game which he enjoyed, but that he didn't know all the rules. Albus tended to leave him with that feeling, anyway. 

A long walk through the school took him to the Gryffindor common room. It was late at night, and the only students out were the prefects, patrolling the corridors one last time before bed. The Fat Lady looked up at his approach and drew herself up imperiously. "Come to apologize again?"

Sirius nodded. "Yes. I really am terribly sorry."

"Well, you're certainly not forgiven," she groused.

"I didn't expect I would be," he said.

A few minutes later, Harry came up to the portrait. Draco was with him.

"Sirius," Harry said.

"Good evening, Harry," Sirius said.

Draco smiled. "Sirius, you know, I have to say your work on the prefect pins was brilliant. Was it your idea to have them warn students out of bounds that there are prefects coming?"

"Actually, that was Remus," Sirius said. "But I'll let him know you were impressed."

Draco smiled, kissed Harry goodnight, and headed off for the Slytherin common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could've sworn it was spelled catalogue... oh well...
> 
> So that's what the prefect badges have been enchanted to do. If you happen to be a student up and out of the common room after curfew, and Harry, Draco, or both are coming towards you, you will suddenly hear a loud voice shrieking that the prefects are coming.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, this chapter devolves into the explicit after a while. 
> 
> All right, now that you're back from reading the explicit: We're getting some really nice plot divergence now. It should be fun. Only a few chapters before crazy starts happening.

"Oh... Oh Draco..."

Draco looked up from his table in the Three Broomsticks. Behind Harry, Dean and Seamus snickered quietly. Harry cast them an accusatory look, although he could well imagine that Draco's attire was the result of his own stubbornness as much as his friends deciding that they would just leave things at their current level of funny. Either way, the end result was that Draco had made a big production of hurrying off ahead of Harry to wait in the Three Broomsticks wearing a mostly-silver kilt, a Weezer shirt, and dark green leggings.

The strange thing was that the outfit was such a well-coordinated train wreck. None of the colors disagreed with each other vehemently enough to ruin it, but it was still quite a long way from a good idea, as a t-shirt, a kilt, and leggings will tend to be.

"Have I stuffed it up?" Draco said.

Harry could only nod mutely.

"Bloody... Dean, you could have stopped me--"

"Don't blame me for this," Dean called from across the room. "You're the bloke who got testy when I told you you haven't got the build for a kilt."

Harry sat down opposite his boyfriend and pushed down a smirk as Draco muttered rebelliously "The boys in the catalog looked good enough in them, and they were built like me." He stood up and stalked to the washroom, and Harry had to admit that Draco had the arse for a kilt--the kind that told the viewer everything he needed to know by the way the back of the kilt swayed. He almost got up to follow Draco and find out how authentic he'd chosen to be with the kilt, but Seamus patted a hand in the air to make Harry sit back down, and Harry briefly wondered why he was letting another guy follow Draco into the washroom like that, but Dean picked up four butterbeers and came over to sit next to Harry, passing one over.

"Seamus'll sort him out. He's got an eye for that sort of thing. Lucky bastard." He sipped his butterbeer. "I've got to work at art, and he can just draw a portrait in his sleep, and what does he want to be? A bloody quidditch star!"

Harry grinned at his friend's gripe, waved at Blaise Zabini as the Slytherin came in with Cho Chang, talking in a low voice. The wave was returned, but without much fanfare and the two sat in a dark corner. Cho's face was buried in her hands before Madam Rosmerta arrived to take their order.

"You know, it could be worse," Harry said. "He could be trying to take the seeker spot from me. Then we'd have to fight over it, and you'd have to choose sides."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You ought to be the quidditch star. Bloody good pay, and you'd be the first gay bloke on a professional team."

Harry blinked. "I would?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. It'd be marvelous, really. I mean... oh. Hello."

Harry followed Dean's eyes and briefly wondered if he should be mad at Seamus for paying that much attention to the task of emphasizing Draco's legs. The other boy had worked some sort of transfiguration, and the dark green of what had been Draco's leggings had been repurposed as a wonderfully superfluous belt. Trousers that had obviously once been the kilt didn't quite hug Draco's legs, but...

"I wouldn't be the first gay man on a professional team if any of them got a look at that first," Harry said.

"Did he take some of Draco's leggings?" Dean said. "The nerve of him!"

Harry tore his eyes away from Draco long enough to notice that Seamus was sporting a light scarf the same color as Draco's new belt. He pulled it off as he got close enough to talk with Harry and Dean, tossing it casually to Harry. "Thought you might appreciate this, Harry."

Harry nodded numbly. Draco and Seamus sat down at the table across from Harry and Dean.

"Better?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "Sorry... the kilt and the leggings was just... it didn't really work for you. Although you are getting a kilt. You're just not allowed to wear anything else with it."

Dean flinched, and when Harry turned to look at him, Seamus cut in with "you were picturing it!"

"He's fit!" Dean objected. "Doesn't mean you're not fit, it just means he's fit, too."

Draco was looking smugly at Dean when Harry turned back to look at him again. "Thank you Dean."

From the way he said it, Harry really should have known that there was going to be trouble.

+----+

"You know," Seamus said breathlessly Draco led both him and Harry into the Gryffindor fifth-year dormitory, "You really shouldn't be in here."

Dean was the last one dragged in, Harry's hand pulling him through the door. Harry aimed a colloportus at the door and it sealed itself shut as Draco made his reply to Seamus.

"Finnegan, we left 'shouldn't' in the Hog's Head washroom half an hour ago."

"Still, there's much more risk we'll be caught," Seamus said, and Harry smiled with something about three places removed from pride as Draco pushed the other boy up against the recently-sealed door. He wasn't usually quite so dominant, but Harry found he enjoyed seeing it from the outside. There was no mistaking the way Draco's chest pressed against Seamus'.

"Tell a prefect, then," Draco very nearly growled.

Dean's arms stole hesitantly around Harry's torso. Two shots of firewhiskey was really more of an excuse than an intoxicant, but it still seemed to spread extra warmth as Dean said, in a voice lower and smoother than Harry thought he was capable of, "Is he always like that?"

Harry shook his head. "No." He turned in Dean's arms and pulled him towards a bed. In the back of his mind, he was pretty sure it was Seamus' bed. "I like it when he is, though."

He pulled Dean on top of him, and chuckled softly at a low gasp from Seamus. 

"You two ought to get over here," Harry suggested, and when Draco arrived with Seamus, all four of them dragged themselves fully onto the mattress. Draco kept placing claiming kisses on Harry's lips, and only slightly less proprietary ones on Dean and Seamus. Soon enough, he was the only one with anything left on, and that was only the mostly-silver trousers. Harry found himself sitting with Seamus essentially in his lap, learning what he must look like from behind in his most intimate moments as Seamus leaned forward to undo Draco's fly.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco gasped. "No pants and you put a zipper on the trousers! Does not agree with hanging about with oversexed Gryffindors. You've left me with a sore spot, Finnegan. What are you going to do about it?"

Seamus responded by taking Draco's penis into his mouth, apparently on the theory that saliva was the best ointment around. "Well, that's the sort of consideration that ought to be rewarded," Harry said as he dived to take Seamus' waiting erection in his mouth. Dean seemed to take that as a cue to dive on Harry, because soon, Harry could hardly have been happier. 

There was some swapping about of positions, and in the end, the four of them wound up in a daisy chain. Harry grunted in surprise and pleasure as he took Dean's orgasm, and then emptied himself into Draco's waiting mouth, and soon enough, they were all four curled up together. 

+----+

The stone walls scrolled past Harry. Doors slid by to either side, torches in sconces between them. He ignored the doors, for he knew that nothing behind them would satisfy him, until he came to a door at the end of the corridor.

Harry considered the unmarked door for a moment. What he desired was just beyond it, but even as he began to reach for it, to open it...

+----+

Harry sat up abruptly and hissed air in through his teeth, his hand slapping up to his forehead. He had the feeling that everything around him had just suddenly gone still. He looked to his left. Dean and Seamus were frozen, somewhat ridiculously, in a position that was clearly meant to lead to something. He turned to his right. Draco was sitting up, faster and more urgently as he saw that Harry's hand was clasped to his forehead. Guiltily, Harry took his hand down, but it was too late. Draco grabbed his wrist. 

"Harry, your scar was hurting. What did you dream?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cracks knuckles* Man. I haven't written explicit in a while. I think it's safe to say that after this, Dean and Seamus will probably hesitate to climb into bed with Harry and Draco again. 
> 
> The four of them being poorly directed bags of hormones with screaming brains along for the ride, though, this was pretty much just going to have to happen once. At any other stage of their lives, nope, but here... they pretty much felt like they needed to do it.
> 
> I just chose to use it to make Dean and Seamus more involved with Harry's story.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about this chapter, guys. Harry is being Harryish, and he is being _intractable_ , and I don't like it any better than you do.
> 
> That said, it's better-written than the last one...

Dean and Seamus stared awkwardly, clumsily disentangling from each other. Harry still felt ever so slightly drunk, so it couldn't have been long since they all dropped off. 

"It's nothing," he said.

"Bollocks," Draco replied evenly. Harry had only ever heard Draco speak quite that crassly to him. 

"Not important," Harry insisted.

"If your scar hurts, you have to tell Professor Dumbledore," Draco pressed.

Harry blinked at the unexpected demand. "Draco, it's really not that important. I think Voldemort is just angry or something."

Seamus flinched at Voldemort's name, and Harry watched him grabbing Dean's trousers off the floor. Someone knocked on the door, and a voice called out "Seamus, Dean, stop shagging and open the bloody door!"

Color rose in Harry's cheeks and he climbed out of the bed, hurrying to his trunk at the foot of his bed and throwing extra clothes to Draco.

"You're a terrible liar, Harry," Draco accused.

There was another loud knock at the door.

"Harry, tell Dumbledore." Draco was the picture of pleading, sitting naked on the bedside with a tatty old pair of Harry's pants in his hands. Harry waved his wand and muttered a spell, and the underthings in Draco's hands repaired themselves somewhat.

"I'm not telling him," Harry said. "Nobody needs to worry about this. It's not major and it's not a problem."

Dean and Seamus had frozen, both half-naked, to watch the exchange. They were like spectators at a tennis match, heads going back and forth between Harry and Draco.

"That's not true, Harry," Draco protested. 

"If I tell someone about this, they'll start panicking and trying to find out what Voldemort's" (Dean and Seamus both flinched this time. Draco stayed unruffled) "up to, or maybe they'll just jam me in a padded room and trot me out against him when they need me to stop him again!"

"You're exaggerating," Draco said calmly.

By now, Harry could feel the color rising in his cheeks. If Draco would argue with him, he'd feel better about getting mad over this, but Draco was staying calm, and that, perversely, made Harry even angrier. "I'm not exaggerating!"

By now, Dean and Seamus looked distinctly uncomfortable. Harry turned to his trunk and jammed some clothes on. He didn't bother with a shirt, just a robe. Draco threw back the pants Harry had tossed him in favor of his own clothes, and everyone dressed in awkward silence. 

"Harry," Draco said at last, when there was no more excuse not to talk. The knocks on the door had even ceased. "Just tell me what you dreamed."

"It was a BLOODY CORRIDOR full of BLOODY, STUPID DOORS! Are you HAPPIER knowing? Do you feel BLOODY ENLIGHTENED?"

Draco actually shrank back a bit. He turned, waved his wand--in infuriating silence--at the door, and walked out. Instantly, Harry felt like a prat, and he chased after Draco, rushing past Dean and Seamus to catch him. As they threaded through the common room, Harry caught up with Draco, and only then realized that he and Draco had just emerged at the same time from the locked dormitory as Dean and Seamus, and everyone was going to know exactly what had happened. Draco apparently knew, too, because he was bright red. The unique and striking effect of a blush on a face nearly the same color as its hair was ruined by Draco's magically-altered mane, but it was obvious nonetheless. Draco stalked out of the portrait hole, and Harry followed him from the crowded-but-silent common room into the comparatively louder halls of Hogwarts. 

They were all the way down to the third floor before Draco spoke up. "So, I suppose making me do the Hufflepuff's Walk down from your common after yelling at me isn't enough? You've got to watch me humiliate myself?"

"Making... Draco, I didn't _make_ you do anything!"

A portrait nearby said something scandalized-sounding.

Draco scoffed. "You threw clothes at me the instant I made it clear I intended to persist about your dream!"

"FINE!" Harry shrieked. the sound echoed back to him from a vaulted ceiling somewhere, and he stood amongst a chorus of angry Harrys for a moment. "I WILL TELL THE ENTIRE FUCKING CASTLE ABOUT MY FUCKING DREAMS SO YOU CAN FUCKING FEEL SECURE THAT FUCKING DUMBLEDORE KNOWS ENOUGH ABOUT MY FUCKING PERSONAL LIFE!"

Draco winced as the echoes bounced, one, two, and then three repetitions of Harry's rage. 

"Why are you so dead-set against telling Professor Dumbledore?" Draco asked softly when the halls were once again silent.

Harry's anger wasn't spent yet. "BECAUSE HE'S IGNORING ME! OR HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED THAT HE'S BARELY SO MUCH AS LOOKED AT ME IN MONTHS? ALL HE WANTS IS HARRY POTTER, THE BOY-WHO-FUCKING-LIVED, AND IF I'M NOT PLAYING HERO FOR HIM, HE DOESN'T CARE! DID YOU NOT HEAR HIM ARGUING AGAINST TELLING ME ANYTHING?"

Finally, at long, long last, Draco's anger broke. He went, in an instant, from tight, flawless Malfoy control to red-faced rage. A vague resentment that Draco didn't seem to be feeling the firewhiskey vanished like a soap bubble: he was slurring his words now that the veneer of calm was banished.

"YOU'RE PISSED BECAUSE GRANDDAD DUMBLEDORE WON'T PLAY WITH YOU! WHAT ARE YOU, FIVE? HE'S FIGHTING A FUCKING WAR TO KEEP YOU SAFE, RUNNING A SCHOOL, AND YOU'RE PISSED BECAUSE HE'S TOO DISTRACTED TO SIT DOWN FOR A CHAT! NO WONDER SNAPE WAS SO SHOCKED WHEN I TOLD HIM YOU'RE NEGLECTED! YOU ARE ACTING LIKE A SPOILED CHILD!"

"YOU SHOULD KNOW!" Harry screamed back. It wasn't a witty response, and it wasn't really worth the crushed look on Draco's face.

Draco turned and walked away.

Harry didn't follow him.

+----+

"What can I do for you, Mister Potter?"

"I think... I think I've just broken up with Draco."

Severus Snape's teacup froze halfway to his lips. Under other circumstances, Harry might have been vaguely smug about having rendered his professor speechless. Instead, he felt sick. "Why are you coming to me? Surely your godfather would be a better confidant at a time like this. And shouldn't you be afraid I'm going to do something unpleasant on Draco's behalf?"

Harry's head hung down and he stared at the floor, watching his feet. "Sir... you don't think I act spoiled, do you?"

"I think you act shockingly spoiled for someone who has fried bacon at his fat cousin's whim since he and the fat cousin were both six." Professor Snape calmly sipped his tea. "I think that your ego is the most overdeveloped thing about you, and that your desperate need for a dose of humility doomed your relationship with Draco from the start. However, I have grown to admire other of your qualities, and I recognize that you suffer from certain... disadvantages. I once promised that at the end of your idiotic dalliance with Draco, you would receive the same treatment from me that you received before." He sipped his tea again. "I retract that threat. Your well-being is important to me, and your trust puts me in a unique position to dangle a false usefulness in front of the Dark Lord. If you need counseling that I can provide, you may consider my door open."

Harry blinked back tears and looked up at Professor Snape. "Th-thank you, P-professor."

"Do try not to come to me for weeping," Professor said. "I'm ill-equipped to deal with it, and I'm hardly the one to help with your relationships."

Harry took that as the dismissal it was, and when he walked out, he heard the faintest of sighs from Professor Snape.

+----+

The next class Harry attended was Divinations, the next day. He sat with Dean and ignored Trelawney's dire predictions about his drastically truncated lifespan. Every time he looked up, Harry blushed, and then looked back down and tried not to cry. He found himself wishing that the lightning strike Trelawney kept predicting would just take him and be done with it. That morning, Draco hadn't sat with him, hadn't even looked up at him across the Great Hall. He had glared steadily at his waffles and spoken to no one. Across the divinations classroom, Harry could see Blaise watching him speculatively, and as soon as class let out, he hurried to the Slytherin. 

The first words out of Blaise's mouth were "Draco says you've split up."

Harry almost sobbed at the confirmation. "I suppose all you Slytherins are going to hate me now."

"Well, I'd leave Gregory alone if I were you," Blaise said. "And um... but me and Daphne are probably all right to talk to."

Harry walked over to the wall and leaned his head against the cool stone. After a moment, Dean leaned next to him. 

"So that's really it," Dean said, as much to Blaise as to Harry. "No more Harry and Draco?"

"No more," Harry mumbled.

Dean wrapped him up in a hug, and Harry wept into his friend's shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things look grim for our intrepid hero! Everyone is going to be okay--well, okay, everyone who survives to the end of this fic is going to be okay--but there are some angsty, unpleasant, fifth-book times ahead for us. 
> 
> And I have to go change the tags...
> 
> If there are specific reassurances you want, comment and I can reassure or disappoint you as is truthful.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Green tea. Pomegranate. Green tea. Pomegranate. 
> 
> You don't know how wonderful the combination is, do you, Internet? It smells like a summer evening.

"Hullo, Harry. I was wonderin' when I'd see you." Hagrid let Harry into his hut and eased himself into his usual chair at the table. The instant Harry saw a light in Hagrid's cabin, he'd come down. He had been beginning to wonder about the groundskeeper's absence, but there was far too much going on for him to make a point of it, and besides, he rather enjoyed Professor Grubbly-Plank's lessons.

"Well, I saw you were back," Harry said.

"An' where's yer Slytherin shadow?" Hagrid asked.

"Draco and I split up," Harry said. "Just about a week ago."

Hagrid sighed. "Tha's too bad. He didn' hurt yeh any, did he?"

Harry shook his head. "It was my fault. I was being stubborn, and we had a fight, and I said some things I... I couldn't..." He sniffled, and Hagrid reached out to pat Harry's shoulder. 

The cabin was silent for a few minutes, and Harry finally broke the silence with "I can see the thestrals now."

"Oh," Hagrid said. "My next lesson's abou' them." More silence, and Harry cleared his throat.

"Where have you been, anyways?" Harry asked.

"Bin talkin' ter the giants fer the Ministry," Hagrid said importantly. "Dumbledore's orders. Me an' Olympe--that's Madame Maxime, ter yeh--an' a whole team o' blokes from the Ministry. Think we got 'em ter keep off You-Know-Who's side, at least." Hagrid shook his head. "Met up wi' my mother. She an' my little brother Grawp... they're doin' all righ' out there. Ministry folks made sure they was well cared for. I worry, though. They're both so small, yeh know."

Privately, Harry doubted any member of Hagrid's family was small, but he politely refrained from saying anything. 

+----+

After his next quidditch match, Harry was brought up short by a shout from behind. He slowed to let Colin Creevey catch up with him. 

"Get any good pictures?" Harry asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair, and turned to see Luna Lovegood, laughing at something Ginny Weasley had said. 

Colin hefted his camera and grinned. "Yeah. Er... you looked good flying out there. Trounced 'em."

"Thanks," Harry said. He was on the point of saying more when Colin let out a sharp yell and scooted about six inches forward. He and Harry both turned at once to see Seamus grinning at Colin. Seamus quirked the corner of his mouth upwards.

Harry looked back and forth between Colin and Seamus, and he braced himself.

"Dywangot'hogsmeadwme?" 

"Great, Colin," Seamus said. "Now try it as multiple words."

Harry held up a hand to interrupt Colin's indrawn breath for his next attempt. "I think I got it. Seamus, did you put him up to this?"

Seamus nodded. "It's been a long time, Harry."

 _Not all that long, really,_ Harry thought, but he just smiled at Colin. "That's tomorrow at Hogsmeade, right?"

Colin blinked a couple of times, rapid-fire. He looked like he was having trouble processing the idea that Harry might be agreeing to go to Hogsmeade with him. "Really?" he said in a voice that was very nearly a squeak.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I mean, there's no point in my moping about all alone, right?"

Seamus passed Harry on the other side from Colin. "That's the way, Harry," he whispered, and then moved off to take Dean's hand and head off to the castle. Harry nudged Colin with his shoulder, and they angled away towards the lake.

"So, let me guess, you've had a crush on me--"

"Since first year," Colin said, blushing. He was cute, Harry supposed. He was blonde, but a sort of dirty blonde, and over the years since Harry met him, Colin had filled out, gotten downright lanky. His ever-present camera had had a few upgrades, too, but really, Harry thought Colin hadn't so much upgraded as just gotten good-looking. "I was probably pretty annoying first year, wasn't I?"

Harry pointed his wand at a stone, muttered a charm, and watched as it sailed towards the lake and skipped almost to the middle of it before finally sinking. "You got better."

Colin found a place to sit, sinking gratefully down onto the soft grass. "Still. I'm really sorry about... you know, about attracting Lockhart's attention. What a git he turned out to be..."

Harry laughed and sank cross-legged onto the ground next to Colin. "You know, I can't guarantee Hogsmeade will do anything for you. I'm only going to try."

"That's good enough," Colin said. "Even if that's all you do, I get to say I went on a date with Harry Potter."

"Your dad'll be so thrilled."

Colin pulled something out of his pocket, and within a minute, he had set up his camera on a tripod. He set the timer and snapped a picture of himself with Harry on the lakeshore.

"He might be," Colin said.

+----+

Harry was more nervous about his date with Colin than he though he had any right to be, but as the day wore on, he decided he hadn't needed to be nervous. 

He should have been dreading it. It wasn't that Colin was obnoxious, as he had been years ago. It was that he was boring. Harry was used to being able to banter and laugh with Draco, and Colin... Colin couldn't banter to save his life. Harry let him down as gently as he could, and even kissed him once just to soften the blow, but when he crawled into bed that night, he was relieved that it was over.

"So how was Colin?" Dean asked from the darkness of the next bed over.

"Dull," Harry replied. "There's not going to be a second date."

"Oh," Dean said.

"I hope you at least were nice about it," Seamus said.

"Of course," Harry replied.

+----+

That night, Harry dreamed about the corridor again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the thestrals scared the crap out of Harry before Draco explained them. Fortunately, that only took a minute.
> 
> I am slightly saddened by the idea of poor Colin, with his crush on Harry, unable to catch the eye of his preferred fantasy.
> 
> And if it seems like there's an awful lot of gay Gryffindors, that's because I'm deliberately avoiding making up OCs, Harry's year is a little statistically odd already in this story, and there's very few non-Gryffindors mentioned outside of Harry's year. As it is though, I rather suspect Colin had something of a schoolboy crush on Harry through most of the books.   
> I wish there was more fanfiction about Colin. I kind feel bad about letting him down like this, really...


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene of this chapter takes place during Harry's date with Colin.

"Well... it's green."

Draco rolled his eyes at Gregory Goyle and headed for the Three Broomsticks, drawing his cloak tight around him against the growing winter chill. He'd decided, after The Breakup (which definitely got capitalized), that he was going to change his hair again. He figured a deep forest green color was a good enough change, and together with a silver-trimmed cloak he'd ordered out of a proper wizarding catalog, it looked damn good on him. 

Up ahead, Dean Thomas waved at Draco. He walked up to the other boy and very definitely did not blush at the memory of ending up in bed with Dean, Seamus, and...

"Hello, Dean," Draco said.

"Enjoying Hogsmeade?" Dean said.

Draco sighed. "I suppose Potter is in the Three Broomsticks."

Dean gave Draco a sympathetic look. "Sorry. I figured I ought to warn you. He's on a date."

Draco drew himself up as tall and haughty as he could (which was very haughty, if not overly tall) and headed off for Honeyduke's. Dean followed. "He hasn't stolen your Irishman, has he?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "No. Seamus is in detention with Professor Black. Seems Sirius Black isn't fond of jokes about Dementors. I told him to stop, the great git."

Draco chuckled. It almost felt genuine. He sighed and stopped in front of Madam Puddifoot's. "I'm going to pop in for a cup of tea. Gregory, Dean, care to join me?"

They both went in with him, and when they came out, they had paper cups of tea. Dean drank the same brand of black tea that Harry preferred. "So who was willing to go out with--"

"Colin Creevey," Dean said.

Draco nodded. "Makes sense. Creevey was always sort of a prat."

Dean smiled sadly and patted Draco's back. "It'll get better."

+----+

"I like what you've done with your hair."

Draco looked up and dug a smile out of somewhere. Three days since he found out that Potter was moving on, and he was smiling at Adrian. The seventh year student sat down across from Draco. The library was quiet, nearly empty. That suited Draco well enough. "Thanks, Adrian."

Adrian spread a book open, leaned back, and started reading. His eyes flicked up to glance over Draco from time to time. Draco kept writing his essay, but his own progress was much slower now. He got to the bottom of the twelve inches McGonagall had assigned, cast a quick charm to dry the ink, looked up, and said, "I take it you want something, Adrian."

Adrian had the decency to turn a little red. "I'm sorry, Draco. I just... well, I really do like what you've done with your hair."

"Are you going to proposition me now, or would you rather wait a few days?"

Adrian's jaw dropped. Draco kept him fixed with a perfectly level, perfectly elegant stare. 

"Do you want to go to the next Hogsmeade weekend with me?" Adrian said finally.

Draco started rolling up the parchment with his essay on it. "Haven't we tried this already?"

"Well, yeah," Adrian said. "I thought we could try again?"

"You know the next Hogsmeade weekend is after the winter break, right?"

Adrian nodded. Draco stood up. "I'll see you then."

"I think we'll see each other around school, too," Adrian pointed out. "And we both play quidditch..."

"I'll keep that in mind," Draco said.

+----+

Draco cried to himself in one of the bathrooms on the way to the Slytherin common room from the library. When the tears were finally done with, he found himself wandering through the halls, and standing in front of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office. He was about to move on when the gargoyle stepped aside and out stepped Professors Dumbledore and Black.

Sirius was laughing at something Professor Dumbledore had said. He spotted Draco, frowned, and sobered instantly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Albus."

"I look forward to it as always, Sirius," Professor Dumbledore said warmly. He turned ice-blue eyes on Draco. "Hello, Draco," he said as Sirius hurried away. "Did you want to talk to me?"

Draco considered a lie, but when Professor Dumbledore turned to head up his stairs, he followed. Professor Dumbledore busied himself with fetching tea, and soon had a tiny little repast set up for them. 

"How are you feeling, Draco?" Professor Dumbledore asked as though he wasn't perceptive enough to see that Draco must have just finished weeping his eyes out half an hour earlier.

"Not excellent," Draco said. "Professor... shouldn't I have got past Harry by now?"

Professor Dumbledore took a biscuit from the tray he had laid out on the table between them. "I should hardly think so, Draco. A year together, and all you went through with him..." the old wizard sighed. "I'm surprised you allowed a single argument to split you."

Draco leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "I wish I could ask my father for advice."

"What would your father advise you to do?"

"Get revenge, I suppose," Draco said.

Professor Dumbledore was silent for a few moments, and then he asked, pointedly, "do you want revenge?"

+----+

"There he goes again," Harry muttered, pushing his fork through his mashed potatoes. Across the Gryffindor table, Colin watched him, and next to Harry, Seamus heaved a little sigh. 

"If it really makes you that mad, maybe you ought to go talk to him," Seamus suggested logically.

Harry shook his head. "Almost winter break. Just another week. I'll find some muggle around home to take my mind off it all." He found himself picturing the punk rock loving teens Draco had watched through the windows of Grimmauld Place, and of course, then he pictured the intrigued look on Draco's face, the contemplation that had led to him trying to carve out a new style for himself. Now he looked up and saw Adrian Pucey talking and laughing with Draco at the Slytherin table. Pucey hung off of Draco's arms, or tagged along at his heels, all the time now, and the dinnertime displays made Harry want to throw things. Instead, he took his anger out in other, subtler ways. He'd levitated a dusting of beetle eyes into Pucey's potions ingredients when the seventh year had left his bag open during lunch a couple of weeks earlier. Harry had gotten a rare laugh when he heard about the explosion that Pucey had triggered in his next potions lesson.

Now, though, Harry didn't have access to Pucey's bag. He just sighed and hurried through dinner so he could get to bed earlier. His grades were suffering, but Harry found sleep easier to deal with than his classmates. 

He collapsed uneasily into dreams of quidditch. The Slytherin team had all turned into Draco, except for Adrian Pucey, and he winced every time Fred and George pelted someone with a bludger. Finally, Hagrid came up to referee the match, and called out Fred and George for using boggarts as bludgers.

And then... the dream changed. 

His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone... He was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly... it was dark, but he could see objects shimmering around him in strange, vibrant colors... He was turning his head... at first glance, the corridor was empty... but no... a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark...

Harry put out his tongue... He tasted the man's scent on the air... He was alive, but drowsing... sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor...

Harry longed to bite the man... but he must master the impulse... He had more important work to do...

But the man was stirring... a silvery cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt... He had no choice... He reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood...

The man was yelling in pain... then he fell silent... He slumped backward against the wall... Blood was spattering onto the floor...

His forehead hurt terribly... It was aching fit to burst...

"Harry! HARRY!"

Harry opened his eyes. He was drenched in sweat, cold and born of fear, his bedcovers were wrapped around him like ropes, holding him confined. His forehead felt like someone was pounding a railroad spike into it, one so new it hadn't even cooled down from the forge that made it.

Dean was standing over him, and as Harry came back into awareness, Seamus came into view. "He's really ill," Seamus said. "We've got to call someone." Harry rolled and vomited off the side of the bed. Before he could be sick again, he pushed himself up in bed, looking across the dormitory. Weasley was sitting up in his bed, Neville was hurrying towards Harry. Harry swung out of bed, nearly stepping in the puddle he had left when he threw up over the side of the bed.

"Your dad," Harry gasped. He pushed off of Dean's shoulder and staggered across the room, holding himself up on the posts of Seamus' bed. Why did Weasley have to have moved all the way across the dormitory from him?

"What's your problem, Potter?" Weasley growled. Harry steadied himself against Neville for a moment, then hurried over to Weasley. His voice was still rough from whatever screaming had awoken the other boys.

"Your dad... your dad's been attacked."

Weasley paled visibly, even in the moonlit dormitory. "C-come off it, Potter. Stop it."

"He has!" Harry objected. "He's been bitten. There was blood everywhere. It's serious, Weasley!"

"You were dreaming, Potter," Weasley growled, and he determinedly rolled over and closed his eyes.

"No!" Harry shouted. "It wasn't... It wasn't a normal dream! I was there, I saw it.... I... I..."

He couldn't say the words. He heard the door open and close behind him, and another wave of agony from his forehead sent him retching. Weasley scrambled away, thudding to the floor on the other side of his bed. Harry brought up a few more chunks of dinner as Weasley poked his head up to stare, mystified and angry at him.

"I don't care what idiot nightmare you had, Potter!" He stood up and hurried away, out the door. "Neville!" Harry heard him shout, and as the pain began to subside in Harry's scar, he leaned backwards. Dean caught him.

"Harry, it's all right, it was only a dream," Seamus said.

Weasley dragged Neville back into the dormitory and soon had him helping to scrub the sick off of the floor. 

"Come on, Harry," Seamus said. "Go back to bed. You can sleep in mine, and Dean and I can get rid of--"

"No!" Harry shouted. He pulled out of Dean's arms and rushed across the dormitory, out the door, and pelted headlong down the stairs to the common room. The whole episode had an air of unreality about it, as though he was still dreaming. Harry kept expecting to turn back into a snake. It seemed to take forever to reach the common room. Angelina Johnson was in the common room, poring over a chart of the quidditch pitch. She let out a startled noise and hurried up to stop Harry. 

"Harry, what are you doing? Are you trying to get detention?"

"Angelina, let me go," Harry said, though he felt as though nothing he said could be understood. He wondered, for a moment, if he was speaking parseltongue, but Angelina sighed and let him go. "Whatever you're about, don't get caught."

Harry hurried out of the portrait hole, and was about halfway to Sirius' office, feeling much more coherent, when Argus Filch's voice brought him up short.

"Well, Potter. Out of bed after hours."

Abruptly, Harry recalled the invisibility cloak, tucked safely away in his dormitory. In his panic, he had forgotten it, and now Filch had caught him and was dragging him away. Harry reached into his pocket, ready to jinx Filch if he had to in order to get away, but the caretaker of Hogwarts was in possession of far more luck that night than Harry Potter: His wand wasn't in his pocket.

Harry turned and, desperately, he said, "Filch, you have to let me go! Arthur Weasley's been attacked, and I have to tell someone!"

"Well then, you've just told me, haven't you?"

"No!" Harry cried, but Filch just kept dragging him along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This um... this is going to end badly for everyone.
> 
>  
> 
> Very, very, very badly.
> 
> For everyone.
> 
> I'm sorry.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the conclusion of this horror show of a story arc.

When Kingsley Shacklebolt rounded the corner of the hallway that lead to the Department of Mysteries, he encountered neither a giant snake nor Lord Voldemort. But Kingsley Shacklebolt was an auror. He was familiar with the scent of blood, and from it, he could tell a few things at once. The most pressing of these was that Arthur Weasley had not been actively bleeding for several minutes. Behind him, Gawain Robards slowed to a stop, even as Kingsley's boots continued on. The sound of a booted foot stepping in a shallow puddle of blood was disturbingly wrong, a sort of liquid clack more than a splash. He stirred up the scent of fresh blood a little more, and went into a crouch, but checking Arthur's pulse was only a formality at that point. 

Gawain Robards ambled up to the edge of the puddle of blood as Kingsley shook his head. 

"I don't suppose we could get Filch sacked for playing a part in this?" Robards said.

"It would serve him right," Kingsley admitted. "But it's up to Dumbledore."

"I don't think I've ever seen Dumbledore look that mad," Robards pointed out. "I swear, I thought he was ready to hex everything in sight."

"You didn't see Snape, did you?" Kingsley asked. When Robards shook his head, Kingsley went on. "I expect he's going to have to replace some of his own furniture tomorrow. The words he was using to describe Filch..."

Footsteps came pelting down the corridor at them, and Kingsley and Robards both turned, wands out and curses ready on their lips. Percy Weasley drew up short, in all likelihood oblivious of just how close he'd come to dying at the hands of two jumpy aurors. Robards flicked his wand at Percy, nodded in satisfaction, and both aurors relaxed to about the level of tension that could be expected of a skydiver about to pull the cord for his backup chute.

"Is he..." Percy said.

"We'd have got him out of here by now if there was anything to be done," Robards said.

Percy Weasley dropped to his knees.

+----+

Harry Potter glared across the Headmaster's office at Argus Filch. Albus Dumbledore watched Filch through steepled fingers. Sirius Black paced, burning off energy he probably didn't really have. 

"And you are certain, Gawain, that the wounds were left by a snake?" Dumbledore said. 

"OF COURSE THEY WERE LEFT BY A SNAKE!" Harry roared. "I TOLD YOU THAT ALREADY--"

Dumbledore held up a hand to silence Harry. "That will be dealt with in time," Dumbledore said, not even bothering to look at Harry. "For now, I believe we have work to do. Sirius, please take Mister Potter back to his dormitory. Please retrieve the Weasley children on your way back. I think we will be sending them home early."

Sirius looked back at Harry, and, to Harry's surprise, he first crossed the room, gripped Dumbledore's shoulder, and squeezed, gently and comfortingly. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured for Harry to follow him. Harry stood up and followed his godfather out of the Headmaster's office. 

Halfway to the Gryffindor common room, Harry realized that he was crying. "Sirius... I--"

"You didn't attack Arthur, Harry," Sirius said through clenched teeth. "I don't know what happened, but it is not going to happen again."

Sirius' left hand was shaking ever so slightly, and Harry chose not to question him anymore. When they got to the common room, and Sirius barked the password at the Fat Lady, she swung open to reveal what looked like half of Gryffindor. The twins sat near the door with Lee Jordan, Ginny huddled in a chair next to Neville, who was stroking her shoulder soothingly, and Ron Weasley sat stone-faced behind the table where he usually studied with Hermione. Hermione sat a little away from him, as though she could hardly stand to be that close to so much tension. 

The Weasleys had attracted a crowd of onlookers. Harry could only imagine what rumors might be flying around. He kept his eyes pointed at the ground and tried to ignore the way that Ginny burst into tears when Sirius called for all the Weasley children to come with him. He half expected Ron to run up behind him and hit him. He wouldn't have minded, right at that moment, but no blow came. 

Seamus and Dean waited on the stairs. As the portrait snapped closed, Dean frowned. "Arthur?" he asked. 

Harry shook his head. A gasp swept through the common room.

+----+

Draco watched for Harry in the Great Hall at breakfast, but given the rumors, he wasn't surprised not to see him.

When he didn't show up at lunch either, Draco began to worry.

"You're being ridiculous," Adrian said the fifth time Draco checked the doors. "He can handle himself, and it's not your job to worry about him."

Draco glanced at the doors again.

When Harry didn't show up at dinner, Draco got up in mid-meal and walked to the staff table. Everyone went quiet. Students so rarely approached the staff table that no one could help wondering what Draco was up to. He broke the expectant silence by speaking to Professor Snape. "Sir, I was wondering... where's Potter?"

Snape gestured. Draco turned, and there was Harry, looking hungry and worn and threadbare. Draco wondered if that was what he had looked like right after his father died. He decided it must be. 

+----+

Professor McGonagall woke Harry early in the morning, ran a few cleaning charms over him, informed him that there was no time to waste, and brought him to the front doors of the castle. Harry thought he must have gotten only a couple hours of sleep. He was handed off to Sirius, who took him out of the school gates, and Sirius apparated them directly into the Ministry of Magic. A hardwood floor gleamed darkly under Harry's feet. A lingering, vaguely metallic odor made him crinkle his nose as a sleepy-looking wizard in dark blue robes walked up to them. He held out a pair of round golden badges, and Sirius took them. "Everyone's in place, then?"

The man yawned and nodded at the same time. Sirius pinned a badge on Harry's chest, pinned one on his own, and they followed the blue-robed man. Harry looked down at his badge.

Harry Potter  
Prophecy Retrieval

"Can't believe Dumbledore actually convinced them to move one," the sleepy wizard said. "'S'been forty years since it was done."

"Albus knows what he's doing," Sirius said. "And if he's protecting the prophecy, not even You-Know-Who can get it."

"Bloody awful what happened earlier," the man said. 

In silence, he led them past a fountain full of magical beings carved with weirdly adoring expressions on their faces as they clustered around a ridiculously noble-looking witch and wizard. They stepped into a lift, which went down, and then down a staircase, and at the bottom of the staircase, Harry stopped short. He was looking down the corridor from his dreams, only now, it was lit. Torches threw weird shadows across the stone, and the door at the end stood open, a dozen aurors standing around it in their official red robes.

Harry followed Sirius through the door. It led to a round chamber, lined with doors. As soon as the door was closed behind them, the room spun, the doors blurring into a single uniform color. When the spinning stopped, the man led them straight on, and on the other side of the next door was Mad-Eye Moody. He handed a time turner each to Harry and Sirius.

Harry looked around. They were in a room full of shelves. All the shelves were covered in glass balls, some of them filled with swirling smoke, glowing brightly, and some dim and covered in dust.

"Three turns," Moody grizzled, holding up a time turner of his own.

Three turns of the time turner later, Harry was surrounded by the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore stood in the center of them, and as soon as Harry had arrived, he turned. "This way," he said, his long legs taking him off down the aisles with his wand leading the way.

Harry followed in silence, and it seemed as though they passed thousands of effectively identical shelves before Dumbledore turned. They followed again, and at last Dumbledore stopped in front of a specific spot on the shelf. He pointed to a glass orb, one among many.

"Pick it up, Harry. We're moving this to Hogwarts, but only you can pick it up."

The glass was smooth and slightly dusty under his fingers. Harry handed it to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore's fingers curled around the orb. There was a brief silence, as though everyone was frightened of what might happen next, but Dumbledore only nodded sagely. "Now, to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, magical transportation will interact unfortunately with the prophecy. We will be employing the Hogwarts Express."

Sirius rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, and the whole procession left under disillusionment charms, three hours before any Death Eaters might have been there to watch them go.

+----+

Draco stopped in front of Harry.

Harry looked down at the floor. Draco was wearing a pair of white Reeboks, shoes Harry recalled watching him buy. 

"Harry," Draco said.

"Just let me eat," Harry said. "I can't do this right now, Draco."

Draco hugged him. The gesture took Harry by surprise, and he stiffened, then slowly relaxed. "I'm sorry," Draco said. "I'm here for you, Harry. You need someone to lean on, and I've been... I've been..."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

"All right," Draco said. "That's fine. But you can apologize later. And we'll talk later. Right now, you're right. Food. And then you need to sleep."

Harry's breath puffed irregularly against Draco's neck, and it was only when wetness soaked through his robes that Draco realized Harry was crying, quietly sobbing into his shoulder.

Draco surprised himself by turning to plant a gentle kiss on Harry's forehead. "Problem with us, Harry, is that Gryffindors and Slytherins are both so bloody stubborn."

For a tense moment, Harry was silent, and then he kissed Draco, and hugged him tight. They went to go eat at the Gryffindor table.

+----+

Albus set the prophecy down on a recently-cleared spot, a surprisingly humble space in a cabinet to hold such an important object. That was the way with him. 

"Now that it has been placed, only Harry and Lord Voldemort may take it. And, unless I miss my guess, Voldemort will still hesitate to enter Hogwarts."

Sirius sighed. "I wish you had told him what it was about."

"I believe Harry will discern more than you guess, Sirius," Albus said, closing the door of the cabinet and locking it with a simple latch. 

Sirius shook his head. "Sometimes, Albus, I don't understand you."

"Sometimes, Sirius, I wonder if that is so high a compliment as I like to pretend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Arthur... I promise you'll be happy and healthy in some other story, but here, it was part of the story for you to die...
> 
> So, this chapter was a bastard and a half to write, but it should be much smoother sailing from now on. And at least Harry isn't going to angst quite as hard as he does without Draco. 
> 
> OH MY GOD writing him like that is a chore.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this chapter, I learned that many of my non-American readers may not know what a s'more is. To those readers, I say only: look them up. Look them up and, if only once in your life, make one. S'mores are the primary reason we have America, people. Forget any propaganda you may hear about democracy and freedom and what-not. America doesn't do too much of actually spreading those anyways. This nation is here on Earth because someone, somewhere, had to roast marshmallows, melt chocolate, and make a roasted-marshmallow-melted-chocolate sandwich on rich, sweet cracker bread.
> 
> What I'm saying is that if you have never had a s'more, you should drop everything and go have one. Then and only then will your life be truly complete.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is longer than average. This is because it starts out, and for quite a while, it remains, very bleak. 
> 
> I tried to end it in a really dark spot, but I just couldn't post it like that. So enjoy your double-wide superchapter.

The next day found Harry curled up in the Gryffindor common room, far away from any threat of attending classes. He was leaning back against one of the big squashy armchairs, staring at the window over his knees. Once in a while, some brave soul would go zipping past on a broom, Ravenclaw scarf whipping behind her in the wind. Probably, Harry thought idly, Luna Lovegood completely ignoring the fact that it was utterly insane to so much as contemplate flying in the snow-filled December air. Hedwig was sitting atop a chair, having apparently either been told that her person needed her or, much less likely, having spontaneously decided to spend the day watching Harry like a hawk.

The fire in the fireplace through which Harry had spoken to Sirius the previous year crackled with a sort of obscene merriness, giving off a burnt-sugar smell, remnant of the Weasley twins' last (patently prohibited) experiment with some American fireside dessert involving half-roasted marshmallows and bars of chocolate. Harry had considered dousing the fire to stop it spreading its sweet smell, but he couldn't really be bothered to point his wand at it and he figured people would get angry if he did, anyway. During their free periods, Dean and Seamus sat with him, but they were clearly uncomfortable.

When classes were over, Hermione was, unusually, the first to return to the common room. She sat in the chair nearest to Harry, the one with Hedwig on the back. The owl, disturbed, made a petulant noise and found a new perch. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked after a while.

"No," Harry replied simply.

She handed an envelope to Harry. It had beak marks and obvious tears stains on it. He opened it, and found a tear-stained note inside.

_Dear Harry,_

_I know I haven't really spoken to you in a long time, and I'm terribly sorry for that. Truth be told, Ronald doesn't want me to contact you, but you've been an important part of our family's life for years, and the twins and Ginny both want to have you here for this._

_As you know by now_

and here, the letter became so tear-stained that the words were unreadable. It continued in a different hand a ways down the page.

_As you know by now, Arthur is ~~dead~~ no longer with us. His funeral will be held on Christmas Eve. If you would like to attend, come to The Burrow at eight in the morning Christmas Eve. You and I will have so much to discuss, and I think I owe you an apology: this is no time to hold grudges._

_I hope that I don't overstep my bounds asking you to be with our family in this ~~dark~~ ~~horrible~~ ~~awful~~ time._

_Yours,  
Molly Weasley_

Only when Molly's name blurred slightly under a fresh tear did Harry realize that he had started to cry. Hermione reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

+----+

Dean brought Draco in a little later, and no one objected when Draco sat in the chair Harry was leaning on. Hermione withdrew her hand and Draco put his out while he took the letter with his other hand. He read silently. 

"What are you going to do?"

"I've got to go," Harry said. "I... he deserves... I mean..." He trailed off, somewhat pathetically, and Draco squeezed his shoulder. After a moment or two, Draco began to coax harry up, until they sat curled up together in the chair. Not long after that, they went up to the dormitory together. Neither Dean and Seamus nor Neville commented when Draco spent the night in the dormitory with them, talking with Harry behind some muffling spell or another.

+----+

Ron Weasley stared quietly across the garden of The Burrow. A week at home, a week without his father, and he was beginning, perversely, to get used to not seeing him there, at the kitchen table. Condolences had been coming from all corners of Wizarding England, and that, too, had begun to seem normal. Everyone was saying that his father was the first casualty of the war. They were saying that he would be in history books, and that he would be remembered in the same breath with Albus Dumbledore and...

Harry Potter appeared just outside the garden gate. With him was the tall, haughty figure of Narcissa Malfoy, and the less tall, but still obscenely proper form of Draco Malfoy. As far as Ron was concerned, the last decent thing Malfoy had done was to turn into a ferret. One of the twins hurried across to open up the gate, and Potter _brought Malfoy in with him_ , though Narcissa at least had the decency to stay out. The other twin appeared to walk them in to the back door. Ron tried very hard to ignore them all, but George tapped him on the back of the head. "Go and get into your formal robes, Ron. We're about to go."

Ron hurried upstairs to his bedroom, rushing tight-lipped past Ginny, and pulled on the formal robes that had been set out for him in the morning. When he came back down, his mother was hugging Potter, crying, while Malfoy stood stiffly to the side, looking like someone had jammed a less comfortable ivory rod than usual up his hind end. As Ron watched, Malfoy reached out and placed a hand on his mother's shoulder. Ron glared at the ground, but looked up again immediately when the back door opened. Hermione came in, and rushed to pull him into her arms.

"Oh, Ron... I'm so sorry," she said. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, but Hermione had pressed herself against him, and he hadn't seen her in a week, and dammit, she cleaned up _gorgeous,_ and even as he hated himself for it, he was having his first hard-on in days a few hours before they were going to bury his father. He pushed Hermione away.

"Ron?" she said, but he waved her off and went to go sit down. Glaring at Potter and Malfoy got rid of his problem, and pretty soon the whole family was gathered in the kitchen, along with a plethora of guests.

Dumbledore was the last to arrive, with Sirius Black (who Ron didn't particularly want to see, either), and a great many other people from the higher echelons of British magical society. His mother stood up and led the whole forlorn procession out of The Burrow and around to the Weasley family cemetery at the very back of the property. Most Weasleys were actually buried in the larger cemetery in Ottery St. Catchpole, but Ron's father had wanted to be buried on the property.

Bill stood in front of everyone, in front of the casket, and spoke about his father for a few long, tear-choked minutes, and then Dumbledore stepped up. Ron nearly shouted at him as the man who sent Arthur Weasley to his death said pretty words like that would excuse what he had taken from their family. But the ultimate insult came after Dumbledore, when Potter took Dumbledore's place. He cleared his throat, and spoke in a quiet voice that forced everyone to strain to hear him.

"This is the second funeral I've attended this year. The first time, I asked everyone present to make sure the... the person the funeral was for... hadn't died in vain. Arthur Weasley died doing that." Potter stared at his shoes for long enough that Ron began to suspect that pathetic speech was all he would say, but of course he wasn't done. "I hadn't spoken to Arthur in almost year when he died, but I remember him well enough. In the short time I knew him, he was... I never knew my father, but I would be lucky if he was half as brilliant a father as Arthur was. He treated me like his own son, and he was always kind to me. He never spoke a word of discouragement to me, he always believed that I was... I was capable of anything I wanted. He was so fascinated by the world around him, and I'll always miss hearing him ask about... about muggle things, as though the things that any muggle would ignore were the most important bits of the world." Potter turned to the casket. "He'll be missed, more than anyone can say."

He stepped down, staring at the ground, and sat next to Malfoy.

There were a couple more speeches, but Ron barely heard them. He was still fuming, he barely even noticed being marched past the casket to pay respects to the closed box he could hardly bring himself to associate with his father at all.

It wasn't until Hermione's hand tightened on his arm that he looked up and saw Potter talking to Black, and it all finally boiled over. He pulled out of Hermione's grip and marched over to Potter. Potter looked up.

"Weasley?"

Malfoy turned to cast a skeptical look his way, and Ron blurted the first thing he could think of. "You were never his son."

Potter seemed to shrink into himself, and then Malfoy reached out and stroked his back, and Potter looked up, and that was when Ron screamed it instead of just growling, "YOU WERE NEVER HIS SON!"

He cocked his arm back and let fly, and there was a loud crack as Potter's nose broke under Ron's fist. He jumped on Potter, but before he could do any more damage, he was frozen in place, and then levitated out of the way, and the last he saw of Potter before someone turned him away was blank eyes swimming with tears, and no hands trying to hold back the blood streaming from his nose.

+----+

"Honestly, dear, when someone's popped you in the nose, you can't just sit there gawping at them."

Molly seemed genuinely to be happier tending to Harry's broken nose (a few spells had served to get everything sorted out mostly straight) and getting ready to scold her son than she had at the beginning of the funeral. It was, Draco supposed, something specific to her. Molly Weasley was happiest, most in her element, when she was busy at being a mother. Everything Harry had ever told him about her suggested that motherhood had more or less consumed her entire life.

Harry was, by then, babbling frantically to Sirius, though he had to repeat everything because he had first tried to speak through a broken nose, which never really works. The twins were watching from the stairs, where they thought no one could see them. They were mostly correct, since only Draco had noticed them.

"I didn't just see the attack, in the dream... I was... it was so vivid, and it was like I was actually... I was the snake. By the time I got to Dumbledore I was so frantic, I couldn't... all I could do was tell him that Arthur'd been attacked, and, and, and... I've been so scared, I thought I was liable to turn into a snake and attack one of my friends at any moment, or... or go after Draco..." this last was said in so small and frightened a voice that Draco was convinced, completely, that Harry had never stopped loving him while they were separated. He held onto Harry's hand.

"Harry, that's not what happened," Sirius said. "I'll talk to Albus, but the fact is that someone would have had to come into the castle, turn you into the snake, use some sort of mind control that isn't the Imperius curse, as you'd have recognized that, and smuggle you to the Ministry before they woke you up. You must have been seeing through the eyes of that snake You-Know-Who has."

Harry was still trembling as Molly daubed the last of the blood off of his face.

"Come on, Harry," Draco said. "Sirius can take us to the Manor."

Harry nodded. "All right," he said. Apparently on impulse, he hugged Molly. "I promise I'll write. I won't get out of touch."

Sirius walked them solemnly out of the garden. Dumbledore laid a hand on Sirius' shoulder as they passed, and Draco though he caught the old wizard sneaking a sympathetic glance at Harry's back, but before he could puzzle anything about that, Sirius had apparated them both to the front gates of Malfoy Manor.

+----+

Harry let go of Sirius' hand and took hold of Draco's. Draco led them through--they literally walked through, like it was made of smoke--a gorgeous wrought-iron gate. Sirius followed, and Narcissa came out to meet them. "Cousin!" she called out, and with perfect grace and poise, she led them along a long, beautifully maintained pathway, lined with hedges. A snow-white peacock crossed the path in front of them, and Harry stared as they got closer. 

"Mother's patronus is a peahen. Father's was a peacock. He spent twenty years searching for an albino pair as an anniversary gift," Draco explained, and indeed, a peahen followed the cock out onto the path. Narcissa extended a hand and brushed it across the tops of both birds' heads as she passed. "They're quite tame. Father got the hen from a muggle. One of the few times he dealt with muggles that he wasn't..." Draco trailed off.

Harry squeezed Draco's hand, and he reached out to touch the peacock's silky head as he passed it. The hen shied away, but Harry would have all week to try to get her to like him.

It was warmer than the winter air elsewhere there on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, and Harry was almost reluctant to go inside, but he knew that his things were inside, so he let Draco lead him in. Sirius and Narcissa had fallen behind, talking over the events at the funeral, presumably. Draco led Harry through sprawling halls lined with portraits that spoke in excited whispers, over floors of glossy, bright hardwood, with runner rugs in intricate patterns that Aunt Petunia would have killed to have on something as small and insignificant as a pillow. 

"Mother's insisted on giving you a room," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "As though you'll be sleeping anywhere but with me."

Harry frowned. He'd been surprised when Sirius announced that he was staying at Hogwarts over Christmas, and delighted when he found that he would be spending the holiday with Draco, which was an unexpected turn of events to say the least. Draco pointed off towards the room where Harry's things had been left, and led Harry by the hand to his own room.

As soon as Draco opened the door, Harry let out a little snort of amusement. The walls were covered in magical posters of various celebrities, all of whom Harry recognized from the covers of books or magazines that were popular with the girls at Hogwarts. Boys stared and winked and waved at him from dozens of spots on the walls. One of the young men was pretty clearly trying to find a way around the edge of his poster into the next one, which contained a sultry wizard watching his efforts with hopeless longing.

"So, did you do this..."

"Before the start of fourth year," Draco confirmed.

"You know," Harry said, "I reckon your dad might've had some inkling you're gay before you started dating me."

Draco blushed, and took Harry over to sit on the bed.

"Draco," Harry began, and for a moment he could get no further than that. "I... We have to talk it over."

Draco sat back. "I know. Harry, we both said... said some pretty awful things to each other."

"I'm so sorry," Harry said. "I know better than to throw your wealth in your face, I really do."

Draco squeezed his eyes tight shut. Harry was used to this, when Draco was about to admit something he didn't want to admit. "I was trying to hurt you, when I said... those things... about Professor Dumbledore. I knew exactly what to say to get you really cross, and I used it... I'm sorry Harry." Draco leaned over and rested his forehead against Harry's. "But Harry... I know you... I mean, even if you didn't want to, you still loved me. You love me enough to love me when I'm not being reasonable. Even if I keep being unreasonable for... for months."

Harry pulled Draco close, and they gave the posters a bit of a show.

+----+

Albus watched as the smoke curled away from one of his implements. It had writhed about, in the form of a pair of snakes, for a few long, uncomfortable moments, in response to Albus' inquiries. 

"Most curious," Albus said. "Sirius, what do you think of the idea of having Severus teach occlumency to Harry?"

Sirius blinked. "Occlumency?"

Albus sighed, and as the air left him, he seemed to age thirty years, which was, for a man his age, a mighty accomplishment. "I believe we cannot afford to act in any way other than as though Voldemort has a direct connection to Harry's mind. Until recently, I don't believe Voldemort was aware of it, but now, after what happened with Arthur..."

"He'll be looking for a way to use it... Albus..."

Albus looked up. "Sirius," he said, raising eyes that, with the shocking aging of the sigh, seemed also to have darkened from their usual twinkling blue to the color of the sea from far below the surface.

"Albus, that's why you won't explain, isn't it? You're afraid that Harry... Merlin, Albus, you're afraid V-Voldemort might possess him. Afraid he'll learn too much, or use Harry to attack you."

Albus' nod lodged a little lump of fear in Sirius' throat, and he moved around the desk to embrace the older man. For a few moments, Albus sat as upright and rigid as if Sirius had wrapped a live cobra around his throat, but then he relaxed into Sirius' grip, and Sirius felt a scattering of tears drip into his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Yeah, Ron's in a bad place. I initially almost ended this right after he punches Harry in the nose.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, there I go writing a sex scene again...

As awful as Christmas Eve had been, Christmas day was an island of comfort. Harry woke up tangled with Draco in his bed, drew closer to his lover, and let himself smile. After a few minutes, Draco sighed contentedly, but since Harry was behind him, he didn't go for a kiss, just cuddled in. 

"I'm glad we didn't miss Christmas morning together, too," Draco said.

Harry's left hand tightened over Draco's chest, his fingertips brushing one by one across the nub of a nipple.

"Me too," Harry said. He waited a minute before adding, "my arm's asleep. Could you..."

Draco budged a bit and Harry pulled his right arm from under his shoulder, waiting for the feeling to all come back.

"Mmm," Draco said. "You're beginning to notice you're in bed with a bloke you like."

"Don't know what could have given you that idea," Harry said, rubbing up against Draco's backside.

In reply, Draco seized Harry's erection in one hand, reached out to his nightstand with the other, and was soon coating Harry liberally--and not entirely on his genitals--with whatever oil it was he had used the night before. He rolled, and somehow got Harry onto his back, and was straddling him, and then, with a look of supreme concentration, he sank down on Harry's crotch and began to rock back and forth, establishing a rhythm.

Harry answered with a hand on Draco's own burgeoning erection.

"Merlin," Draco muttered. "I ought to have you stuff my stocking every year."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he didn't really feel, under the circumstances, that it was proper to complain.

+----+

"You know, I'm still a little surprised you don't put on dress robes before you come downstairs."

Draco didn't even look back at Harry's comment, just kept going down the stairs, green hair mussed and his pajamas slightly askew. "We figured we could dress down a bit for this Christmas," he said. "Boxing day, though, you'll be required to put on that little number you wore for the Yule Ball last year."

"Before or after the stocking stuffers?"

Draco snorted. "Both, for preference."

He turned left at the bottom of the staircase and Harry followed him, down a short hall to a sitting room that he hadn't seen the day before. A massive Christmas tree, festooned with all manner of brightly-colored bulbs and fairy lights and candles, lorded ostentatiously over a small mountain of shiny presents not far from the hearth, over which hung three big fluffy red and white stockings, one of which had Harry's name embroidered in gold on the top. Draco's and Narcissa's stockings had their names in iridescent emerald thread. 

Narcissa sat on a big, overstuffed armchair upholstered in cheery greens and mellow blues that should have clashed, but were patterned so perfectly that they didn't. Her normal tight and formal appearance had been loosened considerably. She wore a big, fluffy bathrobe that reached to the floor and made her look more motherly than Harry had ever seen her look before. She clearly hadn't bothered with a shower either, opting instead to just put her hair in a ponytail and go downstairs.

"So glad you boys could join me," she said. "Harry, you're sleeping in the room I've given you tonight. Honestly, Draco, have you no restraint?"

Draco yawned and stretched expansively. "I have restraint where it's important, Mother."

Narcissa picked up her wand from the table beside her and aimed it at the mantle. Harry's stocking floated over to him, then Draco's to Draco, and lastly Narcissa's, and Harry watched with a little smile on his face as Draco tore greedily into the contents of his stocking.

+----+

"Oh, that's lovely." Sirius aimed his wand at the package Kreacher had sent him in lieu of a proper Christmas gift and tried to ignore Severus' snide chuckling as he incinerated it. 

Albus raised his mug in an I-told-you-so toast across the breakfast table. "If you would treat him more kindly," he said, not bothering to finish the sentence.

The staff and students were gathered for breakfast in the Great Hall, although Sybill Trelawney was notably absent. There were very few students, and as often happened on such occasions, everyone was gathered around one long table. Sirius remembered sitting at several such meals, with Remus and Peter on either side of him, and once with James across the table, making faces when he didn't think the teachers could see. 

He couldn't recall, though, the Slytherins at the table getting along with the Gryffindors the way Blaise Zabini was Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. The three boys were laughing merrily together as Dean levitated another sausage off of Luna Lovegood's plate and onto Ernie Macmillan's. As soon as their attention was turned away from her plate, Luna calmly replenished her supply of sausages, while Ernie grew gradually more and more puzzled by the sausages that kept appearing on his plate every time he turned his head.

There was a loud bang, and Sirius turned to see Albus settling an enormous purple tophat on an unwilling Severus' head.

"I think it suits you, Severus," Albus said.

Dean, Seamus, and Blaise all started cackling at the sight of the Potions professor glowering from under the most ridiculous headgear in the room.

"You look very cheery with that hat," Luna said as though Severus had asked for a comment. "You should smile, Professor Snape."

"No, Luna," Sirius said. "Professor Snape doesn't smile, he just glares a little less angrily."

"That's only when I am dealing with you, Sirius." Severus said flatly.

+----+

Albus had gathered the tophat as well as a hot pink sombrero from a cracker Minerva had set off by the end of the meal, and was wearing them with the tophat settled atop the sombrero as if it belonged there when breakfast ended and he strode confidently out of the Great Hall. Sirius got up to follow not long after, and Albus waved him over. "Sirius," he said. From some pocket somewhere, Albus produced a little box. "I wanted to give this to you personally."

Sirius took the box with no small measure of surprise. It was the sort that jewelry usually came in, though not overly expensive jewelry. Sirius opened it and drew out a delicate silver chain with a pair of gold pendants hanging from it. He bit back several witty, humorous, and entirely inappropriate comments. 

"The square pendant is a portkey. Break it and you'll be taken to my side. The long one calls a charm that I wear." He held up his right hand, where a bauble on a similar chain hung. "Break that, and I'll know precisely where you are."

Sirius stared for a moment, then bowed his head solemnly to thank Albus, who was apparently having none of that, as he reached out to tip Sirius' head back up. Looking just as serious as a man in a hot pink sombrero and an oversized tophat can (which was more than Sirius would have predicted), Albus said "this is a gift, Sirius. I think it's safe to say that a friendship has grown up between us. I would not have expected it, but it is. I mean to acknowledge it." He reached out and looped the chain over Sirius' neck, then smiled, and before he could say anything else, Severus thoroughly interrupted their moment by walking out of the Great Hall.

"Ah, Severus," Albus called out. "I believe there are some things we should discuss with you."

+----+

In the evening, Narcissa's sister, Andromeda Tonks, brought her family out for a somewhat awkward meal at the manor. Harry was immensely relieved that he at least knew the youngest Tonks, though he was amused to discover that her full name was Nymphadora. She chattered happily about an assignment she was on with Remus, and news of the werewolf cheered Harry as well, since he hadn't seen Remus in months, and a sort of low-level worry about all the members of the Order of the Phoenix tended to buzz around at the back of his mind. 

After the Tonks family left, Harry and Draco were just curling up to start in on a book Sirius had gotten Draco for Christmas when the hearth flared up green. They both stared, but Narcissa went to open up the floo. Hermione's head appeared in the fireplace. "Gosh, that's disorienting," she muttered. "Er... Narcissa Malfoy?"

Narcissa leaned against the hearth. "Yes."

"I think Harry and Draco are there, aren't they?"

"Yes," Narcissa said again.

"Could I come through? I need to speak with them. And, er... Ron has an apology to make to them both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww.... Dumbledore.... that was so _sweet_ of you!
> 
> Oh boy.... Well, here goes Ron. Let's see if he Rons it all up beyond repair.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently listening to: Queen-- A Kind of Magic

Weasley had to crouch as he stepped out of the fireplace. There was a look of contrition on his face, but clearly not contrition he truly felt.

Draco watched him like a hawk as he brushed soot off of himself. Hermione wasn't quite watching him like a hawk, but that was only because she kept turning to watch Harry and Draco as though they were just as likely to cause trouble. Which, Harry had to admit, was probably relatively likely. He certainly felt like returning Weasley's pop to the nose.

Weasley stared at the ground. Without looking up, he ground out the most unconvincing "I'm sorry" Harry had ever heard. Somehow, the two words managed to be almost a monosyllable.

"Such heartfelt sincerity," Draco drawled. "I'm moved, Weasley. Really, I am. I think after this you and I can finally come to a real understanding. We'll be bosom buddies for the rest of our lives, I'm sure."

Weasley looked up with a murderous gleam in his eye. "I said I was sorry, Malfoy."

"You're apologizing to Harry," Draco pointed out. "I'm not the one you assaulted at a funeral."

That did it. Weasley rushed forward, pushed past Draco, brushed Hermione aside, and before anyone could really think to go for a wand, he had Harry up against the far wall. The Christmas tree wobbled very slightly as Weasley growled, "you shouldn't have been there."

Narcissa was up, her wand out and pointed at Weasley's back, but Harry waved a hand at her, and just stared back into Weasley's eyes with a confidence he didn't really feel.

"I'm not the one who started a fight at a funeral," he said, echoing Draco's words earlier. "I fouled up last year. I get that. But the rest of your family still thinks I'm all right--"

"Not me! Not Bill! Not Charlie!"

That, Harry reflected, hurt more than it probably should have, but then, he had only barely met Bill, and never actually met Charlie that he could recall, so it made sense that they wouldn't have quite so durable an opinion of him. 

"So what do Bill and Charlie think of you, then?" Harry shot back. "What about everyone else? Why don't you stop clinging to your idiotic grudge and ignore me?"

Weasley glared at him. When it became obvious he wasn't going to say anything else, Harry nodded. "Right. You know, Weasley, I had every right to be there. You're right, I'm not your father's son. But you're not really acting like his son either." Hermione let out a sharp gasp behind Weasley. "Your dad tried to see the best in people, and you're just trying to see the best way to hurt me." When Harry pushed, Weasley stumbled backwards without much real resistance. "Your dad would be ashamed of you. I was there to pay my respects, Weasley. What were you there for?"

Weasley turned and fled for the fireplace. He made a lucky guess about where the floo powder was being kept, tossed a pinch in the fire, barked "The Burrow," and rushed into the flames.

Hermione watched him go, then she turned back to look at Harry. "Harry, why didn't you fight back when he hit you?"

Harry sank down to a sitting position against the wall. Draco hurried to his side. They both stared at Hermione, and Harry took a deep breath. "When I saw what happened to Arthur... I saw it... I was... I was looking through the snake's eyes."

Hermione found a place to sit.

+----+

Severus watched the students filing out of his class. All the little interactions he observed every day were always a little off immediately after the Christmas holiday, but today, the Weasley boy looked outright withdrawn. His little muggleborn followed after him, and Severus pulled back a sneer. He had other business to attend to than gloating over the little oaf's discomfiture. "Mister Potter, please remain behind," he said.

Harry--Severus was always vaguely surprised that he genuinely thought of the boy by his first name, but then, when one was civil to him, Harry had a certain strange charm that would have made him an excellent Slytherin--gave him a questioning look. "Professor?"

Severus straightened the things on his desk, fidgeting in a carefully calculated way until everyone was out of the room, although Draco was waiting directly outside the door. Draco could be trusted, and he didn't have anyone with him. He had allowed Severus to see him waving off Zabini and Greengrass, a clear enough signal that he knew this must be a conversation for Harry and Severus alone, and which he did not, therefore, intend to share with anyone besides them. "Harry," Severus said, rising from behind his desk. "Professor Dumbledore has asked me to provide you with lessons in occlumency."

Harry blinked, but seemed content to trust Severus to explain more fully. "It seems that there is a connection between the Dark Lord's mind and yours. Your vision before Christmas tells us that much. Whether the Dark Lord is aware of that connection, we do not know, although I suspect that he is. If he knows about it, he will more likely than not attempt to use it against you. Your defenses against such an attack are not sufficient as yet. Occlumency is the art of shielding one's mind against an intruder. There are few more skilled in this art than myself, and so I will be instructing you."

Severus was sure he did not imagine the surprised noise from outside the door. "I will see you tomorrow, at six in the afternoon, in my office."

+----+

"So what did Snape want?" Dean asked as Harry and Draco sat down beside him and Seamus. Their chosen spot had an excellent view of the lake out of a window. It was one of those little places that stately castles seemed to collect where you could fit seven people on one fussily-cushioned bench. Draco spotted what might have been Granger and Weasley out on the grounds, so he carefully placed himself so that Harry would be unlikely to spot them out the window.

"He gave me detention for the rest of my life and took seven trillion house points off of us," Harry answered.

"So tea and biscuits, then?" Seamus said, shifting around so that his head was cradled in Dean's lap and his legs stretched out over both Harry and Draco's laps. Draco tried not to think about what it had been like to climb into bed with Seamus a few months earlier, but it was a losing battle.

"Not biscuits and tea, either," Draco said. "It was war-related. Obviously, we can't discuss it with just anyone."

"Not," Harry went on smoothly, starting to pull Seamus' shoes off, "that you two are 'just anyone.' Professor Snape is going to be teaching me occlumency. He says that I've probably got a connection to Voldemort's mind." Seamus flinched a bit at the name, but Harry had apparently been anticipating just that. He began to massage Seamus' feet, and thus soothed, Seamus seemed disinclined towards excess tension. Draco caught Dean's eye and Dean glanced at Harry's hands working tension out of Seamus' feet. Apparently Dean didn't mind. He just shrugged.

"Occlumency is supposed to be really difficult," Seamus said.

"What's occlumency?" Dean asked.

"Mind magic," Seamus replied. "Shielding yourself when someone tries to read your mind. Supposed to be really, really, really hard."

Dean thought that over for a moment. "No wonder Snape knows it. Head of Slytherin, he'd have to be good at lying."

"Because all we Slytherins do is lie," Draco said.

"Absolutely." Seamus ruined his deadpan delivery with a sudden, and very undignified, giggle. "Harry! That's a ticklish spot!"

"Don't tickle him, Harry," Dean advised. "He thrashes."

Harry dropped Seamus' foot, and Seamus frowned. "But that felt good."

"Can't imagine getting kicked in the tenders if I accidentally tickle you too much would feel good, though," Harry pointed out.

Seamus scowled, but there was no real malice behind it. "Anyways, Harry, I hear occlumency training can be pretty unpleasant. Dean and I'll be there if you need someone to cheer you up after training."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Seamus. I was thinking I'd be getting out of my lessons pretty late, so it's good I'll have you two if it's too late to see Draco."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting thing about Draco: when he has the moral high ground, he sometimes turns into a bit of a dick.  
> We have witnessed this before.
> 
>  
> 
> I kinda love writing Dean and Seamus hanging out with Harry and Draco. There's just a lot of love there, with all four of them having a place that they fit in. Like, Harry and Seamus are closer than Harry and Dean, and Dean is more Draco's friend than Seamus is, and they all get along because they're friends and it makes me happy.
> 
> Also, I just sorta generally like Dean and Seamus.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Earl Grey... You're so good to me...

Harry watched Professor Snape across the width of the potionmaster's office. The professor carefully deposited several memories into a pensieve, then turned to Harry. Nearly a year of closer, friendlier acquaintance with him had taught Harry to recognize the subtle cues of emotion that clung to Professor Snape's face despite the older man's best efforts. He looked relieved not to have the memories in his head anymore.

"Today, Harry, we will begin with a lesson that can prevent a secret from being taken out of your mind by any means." He walked around behind his desk and lifted a second pensieve onto it. This one was covered in the same symbols all over the stone bowl, but not made of the same stone, nor nearly so old and worn--or so large. "The greatest trick an occlumens can learn is to anticipate the need for occlumency. Your memories are a greater trove of knowledge than anything you might be so foolish as to carry with you. Only a fool, therefore, will carry all of his memories with him all of the time."

Harry stepped hesitantly up to the pensieves. "Isn't that one Dumbledore's?"

"Professor Dumbledore's," Professor Snape corrected automatically. "Yes. The new one is to be yours for these lessons until you learn to separate your own memories from mine."

Harry nodded. "How do I get a memory out?"

"It is done without the use of your wand," Professor Snape replied. "Though your wand is the most convenient means of placing your memory into the pensieve. Concentrate on the memory you wish to expel, and visualize it leaving your head. Most beginners picture the people in the memory walking out of their heads. Professor Dumbledore pictures the memory growing as hair."

+----+

Harry flopped into a chair beside Seamus. Seamus looked up from his transfiguration textbook and made a sympathetic face. "You look like you've been through the wringer, Harry," he said.

Harry nodded mutely. "Professor Snape is... thorough. I managed to fill a pensieve and get my thoughts back out of it, though. Eventually."

"That's supposed to be the first step," Seamus said.

"How do you know so much about occlumency?" Dean asked.

"Mum used to tell me I ought to be an unspeakable, before I started blowing things up left and right."

"Unspeakable?" Dean said.

"Someone who works at the Department of Mysteries," Harry filled in. "In the Ministry of Magic. Not the sort of person who ought to have a penchant for blowing things up."

Dean's mouth formed a little "o" and he chuckled. "Probably not, no."

Across the common room, Harry spotted Weasley glaring at him. He sighed, got up, and headed for bed. "I'm exhausted. Goodnight, Dean, Seamus."

+----+

Harry's lessons continued apace with Professor Snape, though aside from mastering how to handle the pensieve, his progress seemed fairly minimal. Professor Snape insisted that Harry should be able to protect his mind even while he slept, which Harry thought sounded flatly impossible. He couldn't even protect his mind while he was awake and anticipating Professor Snape's next attempt to break down his defenses.

Draco was sympathetic, and made a habit of giving Harry teas that were meant to help with the headaches that were part and parcel of intensive training in occlumency. Dean and Seamus laughed at Draco's solicitousness, and Draco called them names for laughing at him. It was a refreshing bit of normalcy for him, but Harry quickly came to understand that Dean and Seamus were bored.

"It's the curse of Gryffindor," Draco explained to Harry as they lounged in one of the more obscure corners of the castle. "You're not having fun unless there's some sort of danger."

Harry snuggled in a little closer. "I'm having fun right now," he said.

"This is in danger of turning into a snogging session," Draco pointed out. "And you're not having fun, you're content. There's a difference."

Harry sighed. "I still think I ought to try and keep them... I don't know, entertained, I suppose."

Draco grinned. "I suppose that's what you're supposed to do with children."

"I think they've demonstrated to you that they're not children," Harry said.

Draco pulled a face. "I still think Seamus' bits are better than yours."

"Seamus does have amazing bits," Harry agreed.

A little smile tugged at the corner of Draco's mouth. "Been getting more familiar with them?"

Harry, all mischief, replied evenly, "well, there was that one time while we were broken up. And then the other time. And then just yesterday, in the shower. And this morning. Oh, and we stopped off for a quick snog when you blinked about five minutes ago..."

"Oh, sod off," Draco exclaimed, halfheartedly shoving Harry's shoulder. He was silent for a few moments, and then, quietly, he said, "you didn't really... I mean, did you?"

Harry shook his head. "There were a few kisses, you know, when I was feeling down, but Seamus wouldn't have done anything without Dean, and Dean wasn't having it. Turned out he was right, so so much the better."

"You wanted to, though," Draco said.

Harry took a deep breath. "Yeah. But we didn't."

For a moment, Harry thought Draco was going to start yelling, but instead, he closed his eyes, let out a slow breath, and said, "remind me to smack Seamus across the back of the head next time I see him." He looked pensive, and then added, "And to give Dean a hug."

Harry chuckled and cuddled confidently into Draco, shifting so his head was in Draco's lap. After a while, Draco said, "I know what you could do to keep them entertained. If you're sure you trust them."

"We're Gryffindors," Harry said. "Of course we trust each other."

+----+

"It's a blank sheet of parchment," Dean said.

"It's very nice parchment, though," Seamus added, as though to reassure Harry that it wasn't as bad as Dean made it out to be.

Harry looked around the common room, but it was late at night, and nobody else was up. He tapped the sheet with his wand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he declared. Dean and Seamus' gasps of surprise as the Marauders' Map spread itself across the parchment were all the apology he needed for their doubts.

"That explains a lot," Seamus said.

"I'll need it back, so make sure it doesn't get taken away, but... well, you can borrow it for a while. Just be careful. My dad made it. It's one of the only things I have that... you know..."

"Your dad made this?" Seamus said.

Harry nodded.

"We'll guard it with our lives," Dean said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way pensieve memories are treated in the books is extremely inconsistent. Snape's memories leak out of him without any wand action on his part in Deathly Hallows, so I'm going with it not being something you use your wand to do.
> 
> So, now Harry's lent out the Marauders' Map. and what was that Draco did? Did he behave rationally? THERE IS A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a jawbreaker! I'm determined to finish it, since I've never got all the way through one!

Minerva sat down across from Albus and gingerly sipped her tea. 

"Sir Nicholas tells me you've begun entertaining guests," she said by way of beginning the conversation, the school matters they'd had to discuss being finished with.

Albus ran a finger thoughtfully over a parchment full of notes on the Weasley Twins' latest misdeeds, then waggled his hands at it until it filed itself. "Only the one guest, Minerva. I hope you don't mean to object to Sirius."

"Of course not, Albus," Minerva said. "I simply wonder if you're growing too... attached to him."

Albus chuckled. "Minerva, my friend, I am too attached to everyone. I lack the fatal flaw that makes Lord Voldemort so very powerful."

Minerva sipped calmly again, and as always, she slipped her perceptions between Albus' words like a knife between his ribs. "And especially attached to Sirius," she said. 

Albus inclined his head, exactly as he would if they were playing chess and she had broken up some trap of his. "He is, I think, just as attached to me. We have violated no rules, I can assure you."

Minerva set down her cup on her saucer. "You have violated none of the school's rules?"

Albus sighed. "Naturally. I find that my own rules are... flexible... where Sirius is concerned. I have already asked him to help me find his replacement."

"You know you're not as resistant to the charms of worldly pleasures as you like to pretend you are, Albus."

Albus glanced over Minerva's shoulder, at his array of tinkling, puffing, whistling instruments, as though he expected them to answer her in his place. "He is."

Minerva's eyes went wide. 

"I promised myself once that I would not risk loving another. I don't believe that anything I feel for Sirius Black is a risk, Minerva."

For Minerva Mcgonagall, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose was quite a display of emotion. Albus let her leave without discussing the matter further, because she obviously needed some time to think.

+----+

Harry kept his breathing steady, but Professor Snape's third assault of the evening promised to be no more comfortable than the first two. 

"Once again, Harry," Professor Snape said, "you must think of nothing before you can learn to control your thoughts under attack. Clear your mind."

Harry closed his eyes, tried his best, but when Professor Snape said "Legilimens," he still found himself thrown down the halls of his memory, though they were fractured, whatever things he had left in the pensieve that he could no longer recall standing out as large gaps. He tumbled to Draco offering to shake his hand on the train before the start of first year, Dudley polishing off the last of a cake that Harry had gotten none of, Professor Snape taking points for a particularly clumsy foul-up in potions class...

_suddenly she was straddling him, and he was quite sure she was wearing perfume, and absolutely certain she smelled, as always, like plums. "If it's stress," Hermione said huskily in between kisses, "maybe I can help."_

_Harry swallowed. He and Draco had given each other blowjobs earlier that night, but he was certainly ready to go again, and Hermione was definitely stirring up a response, and he was frustrated and she needed some kind of reassurance, and oh,_ Merlin _that was her hand down his pants._

_"Here?" Harry hissed._

He wrenched his thoughts away from the memory that he had forgotten even existed, and shoved back, and found himself someplace he didn't expect to be.

_"You are certain," the Dark Lord said, watching Severus closely for any sign of deception. "The prophecy can leave no room for doubt." It was not a question. Lord Voldemort did not ask questions of his followers when they brought him new information. He acted, and if they were wrong, their lives were, quite possibly, forfeit. That he gave Severus the opportunity to stop him and say he was not absolutely sure was not a sign of respect, but it did prove that Severus was considered valuable, too valuable to simply run roughshod over like the others._

_But Severus was certain. "Yes, my lord. The Longbottoms, I believe, are expecting a child about that time..."_

_Lord Voldemort was suddenly sitting in a chair across the room. "Then that is where I will go." He looked up at Severus--_

Harry landed hard on his bum on the floor. Voldemort's sudden change in position in the memory he had seen must have meant that he had stumbled across one of the places where Professor Snape had moved a memory to the pensieve.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," Harry said. "I don't know what I did."

Professor Snape looked more angry than Harry had seen him look in a very long time, and he marched to the pensieve and began loading his memories back into his head. through very tight control, he snapped "that is why you were to do nothing except to the _clear your mind_. If you had waited a split second longer, I would have retreated from the memory, instead of choosing to view your... dalliance... with Granger."

Harry blanched. "Professor, that was as far as it got. I told her no. It would have been cheating on Draco, and I couldn't do that!"

Professor Snape watched Harry for a moment, then he sighed. "I would suggest you work harder on your exercises if you don't wish me to draw the wrong conclusions from memories I should be unable to see by now."

Harry started loading his own memories back into his head, prodding the surface none-too gently with his wand, and he was startled when the smoky form of Sirius rose out of the pensieve and said "Albus knows what he's doing, and if he's protecting the prophecy, not even You-Know-Who can get it."

Harry stopped, turned, and frowned at Professor Snape, who had gone rather paler than usual. "What prophecy was Voldemort talking about?"

"I will contact you to tell you when your next lesson will be," Professor Snape said quietly.

"What are you hiding from me?"

"Harry, you have come to trust me," Professor Snape said, "but I hardly need to remind you that I was once a highly-ranked Death Eater. I do not wish to expose you to the atrocities I commited."

"What happened to the Longbottoms?" Harry asked. "They're still alive, I know. They weren't killed by Voldemort. It was Bellatrix Lestrange that got to them. But why was there a prophecy about them?"

Professor Snape finished retrieving his memories and turned away. "Lock up when you are finished," he said, and he beat a hasty and very obvious retreat from the room.

+----+

Hagrid couldn't really offer much comfort to Harry the next day. He served tea and tried to talk as though he didn't think it was strange for Harry to talk about wanting to trust Professor Snape.

"Honestly, Harry," Hagrid said when Harry was done with his story, "yer not likely ter get along wi' Professor Snape."

"Why?" Harry asked. "I've done well enough at it for the last year"

"He's right, Professor Hagrid," Draco said, shoving Fang away from his lap to preserve the drool-free state of his clothes. "I've never seen Professor Snape act this way."

Hagrid shook his head. "Well then, ye must've upset him somehow. Don' go pokin' and proddin' at it."

O the way out of Hagrid's hut, Harry and Draco met Seamus and Dean. Both boys had dirt crusted on their robes. Harry watched them walking, saw the Whomping Willow behind them, and grinned. "I imagine the Shrieking Shack is full of plush cushions and sex smell by now?"

"Neville knew how to stop it trying to kill us," Seamus enthused. "I bet you've never been inside."

"Actually, it's where I first met Sirius," Harry replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've figured out what's going on with Albus and Sirius before now, congratulations.
> 
> Harry and Snape will probably never be the greatest of friends, but they should be happier with each other than this by the end of all of the various parts of this fic.
> 
> I quite enjoyed writing the way Snape uses the pensieve. He's made it so that, when his memories are in the pensieve, had can at least deceive himself into thinking that he betrayed the Longbottoms, about whom he doesn't really care that much.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that among the many things this world was made to give us, One of the greatest is little tiny peppers. They are sweet little reminders that somewhere out there is a field full of happy, bright little pepper plants, all red and orange and yellow, and that maybe, just maybe, everything will all turn out better than anything you might expect.
> 
> I feel strongly that tiny peppers are a source of happiness, you guys.

For weeks, Professor Snape didn't summon Harry to his office. Harry and Draco wandered the grounds of Hogwarts as the weather began its gradual upswing into spring, making threats of oppressively balmy summer days in the future.

Seamus and Dean were, as far as Harry could figure out, slowly converting the Shrieking Shack into their own personal love nest, though he hadn't mustered the wherewithal to actually investigate yet, despite Draco's insistence that it would be amusing. Harry was vaguely surprised, therefore, to find himself on hands and knees, slipping into the Shack. He wasn't entirely sure what time it was, except that there wasn't daylight coming through the little cracks in the sides of the shack. Draco poked him in the behind, and Harry rushed forward. 

The converted rooms were almost exactly as Harry had imagined them, with little plush blankets and lamps throwing soft light all over. The doorframe into the next room was filled by a curtain of wooden beads, and in the sensual dimness, he could hear soft noises that hinted at almost as much sensuousness as the lights managed to imply. Harry made his way to the door, and was not disappointed. Without hesitation, Seamus rose from where he was working eagerly on Dean's barely-exposed penis, crossing the room from their nest of cushions. Harry had a moment to wonder how they had gotten the murals on the walls to move before Seamus was sucking away at him, Draco crossing the room to Dean, and it was only when Harry realized that Draco had been nude all this time that he began to wonder if he was dreaming. After all, he didn't actually remember going into the passage to the Shrieking Shack. 

But even if he was dreaming, Seamus was awfully good at this, and...

Harry's eyes popped open, and he peered guiltily--and somewhat accusingly--at the covers, as though they could be blamed for the contents of his dreams, or for whether or not they were wet dreams. Dean could be heard chuckling softly a couple of beds over, and Harry tried not to imagine Seamus trailing pale fingers over Dean's rich brown flesh, but it was a losing battle. He got up, hurried off to the showers before anyone else could get up. He was still wondering at the audacity of his subconscious in setting a wet dream in the Shrieking Shack when Weasley walked into the showers. As usual in moments like this, Harry was glad they at least got stalls to pretend at privacy.

Harry finished scrubbing up, but he didn't get out the door before Weasley piped up, "Thomas and Finnegan are going at each other in the dormitory again."

"I'll tell them to take it someplace private," Harry said, slipping out the door. He thought he caught a "thank you" from Weasley, but he couldn't be sure.

Harry interrupted a blowjob, getting an intensely grateful look from a deeply uncomfortable-looking Neville, and passed a very damp Weasley on his way down to the common room. His dream that morning had left him feeling ever-so-slightly off kilter, though he couldn't really put his finger on why. 

The Twins were in the common room already, demonstrating some manner of horribleness for sale that seemed to cause uncontrollable vomiting until the antidote was applied. Hermione was trying to get them to stop, but Harry pointed out that they weren't actually breaking any rules. "It's disruptive," Hermione objected.

"That's right, Harry!" one of the Twins--Harry labelled him "Fred" for no particular reason-- said.

"We're distracting all these people who are trying to focus on not being asleep," George pointed out unhelpfully.

Harry looked around at the few sleepy faces in the common room. He shrugged. "Keep it to the mornings, guys," he suggested. "Nobody's actually working on study in the morning, so you're not really interrupting anything." He frowned at the bucket that was an integral part of their demonstration. "And would it kill you to not demonstrate things that involve large buckets of sick? You'll put everyone off their food."

Fred shrugged. "All right, that's reasonable."

Harry moved on, getting down to the Great Hall just as the teachers all arrived. He scanned the staff table as usual. Sirius was sharing some joke with Dumbledore--Draco swore the two were courting each other--and Hagrid was sitting next to Professor McGonagall, but Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen. Harry sat down next to Draco, ignoring a sharply disapproving look from Pansy.

"Morning Blaise," Harry said after planting a quick kiss on Draco's cheek.

"Morning Harry," Blaise said.

Harry looked around. "No Daphne. You haven't finally convinced her to let you shag her into oblivion, have you Blaise?"

"Mister Potter, your gift for subtlety has left much to be desired once again."

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of Professor Snape's voice. He turned sheepishly around. "Hello, Professor Snape."

Professor Snape quirked a corner of his mouth up. "One point from Gryffindor for inappropriate conversation. Honestly, Harry, I expect better of you." He handed Harry a slip of parchment. "Our next appointment," he said.

"So what did Harry just lose a point for?" Daphne asked, scooting in next to Blaise.

"Implying that you and I are shagging," Blaise replied. 

Daphne pulled a face. "Harry, that's really gross. Blaise is like a brother to me. Yeah, he's fit, but I'm supposed to ignore it."

"You know, Daphne," Draco said, "things like that are why you and your sister get such a hard time from everyone."

"My sister's not fit, though," Daphne said.

+----+

"Harry," Professor Snape said that evening when Harry arrived for his meeting. There were no pensieves on the desk. Something about Professor Snape's position suggested a man crouching for shelter behind a wall. "Take a seat."

Given that there was only one other chair available in the Potions instructor's office, Harry wasn't exactly presented with a luxury of choices. He sat across from Professor Snape. "This isn't like our usual lessons," Harry said.

"This is not a lesson," Professor Snape agreed. "I have thought... deeply... about this issue, and I believe that I cannot continue to instruct you without telling you more. By the time we are finished with this conversation, I cannot guarantee you will hold any respect for me. Harry, the fact of the matter is... I am responsible for your parents' deaths."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Severus... yeah... um... guilt is a powerful motivator, as is self-flagellation, and Snape is guilt and emotional self-flagellation condensed in a character.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy... so this is the end of the occlumency subplot, and we're picking up the second-to-last subplot now. We're no more than fifteen chapters from the end of part 2, probably fewer, and it's gonna be intense.

Harry gaped at Professor Snape. The Potions instructor sat unmoving, his declaration sort of floating unaddressed between them, until he took a breath and continued on. "The prophecy you helped to move here, to Hogwarts, is one that I witnessed a portion of. At the time, I was in the service of the Dark Lord, and it was relevant to him. I brought the news of what I had heard to the Dark Lord, and he put together the pieces more readily than I. There were two children the prophecy might have referred to. Yourself..."

"And Neville Longbottom," Harry filled in. "That's why Voldemort was talking about the Longbottoms. Why didn't you just pull all of your memories of it out, though?"

Professor Snape actually winced. "By removing only my knowledge of your parents' fates, I am able to convince myself for a time that their deaths may not have been my fault. But I knew what the Dark Lord intended. I asked him to spare your mother."

"Why not my dad?" Harry asked.

Professor Snape was silent for what seemed a very long time, until finally, a shade or two more quietly than before, he answered. "Your mother's was the only death I did not desire."

"You wanted me and my dad dead," Harry said.

Professor Snape nodded, and he didn't object when Harry stood up and walked out of his office. Instead, he simply reached for a bottle with which to drown his sorrows.

+----+

"Why did Snape want my dad dead?"

Sirius blinked blearily at Harry. Normally, having a perfectly good nap interrupted by one's godson couldn't really be called too much of a hardship, since at least the godson in question was a sensible lad, but Harry in distress was hardly the same thing as Harry come 'round to chat about quidditch, and Sirius tried and failed to shake the cobwebs from his head as Harry brushed past him into his office-cum-living-quarters. "Your dad... Snape..." Sirius had to think for a moment to figure out how those two concepts were connected. James hated Severus, Severus hated James, James loved Lily, Lily was obviously the only thing Severus ever gave a shit about... "They didn't get along."

Harry flounced down onto a bright orange chair Sirius had picked up in a thrift shop. "Really? And here I thought Snape'd sicced Voldemort on him for a lark. You know, youthful pranks, getting dark lords to kill each other and all that."

Sirius' jaw dropped. "He didn't. I mean, it was Peter--"

"Pettigrew told him where to find my parents, but Snape's just told me, oh-by-the-way, he was the one got the bug up Voldemort's bum about killing my parents anyways, and he asked him to spare my mum and go ahead and kill me and my dad!" Harry's voice rose to a shriek by the end of the sentence, and he was clearly well on his way to a truly earsplitting episode.

"Harry, your father... he... well, I suppose none of us were exactly proud of it after we left school, but James... he bullied Severus."

"HOW DOES THAT JUSTIFY GETTING HIM KILLED?"

Sirius winced. "I've never claimed that Severus was totally sane, Harry. And they were on opposite sides of a war. He must have seen an opportunity and taken it. I can ask Albus about it--"

"THAT'S YOUR SOLUTION FOR EVERYTHING, ISN'T IT? JUST ASK BLOODY DUMBLEDORE!"

"Harry, Albus is an intelligent--"

Harry cut off the rest of Sirius' reply by getting up and storming out. Sirius walked to the wall and let his head thud into the cool stone. When that didn't make everything better, he tried it again. Still getting no results, Sirius instead elected to go see if Albus could shed any light on the situation.

+----+

"Uh oh," Dean said as the portrait hole in the Gryffindor common room swung shut. "Hurricane Harry is on the move again. Get away from the shoreline."

Seamus frowned across the common room and sighed. "I'll go see what's bothering him. If Draco's gone stupid and broken up with him over something, I'll have to hex your best friend to bits."

"Oi," Dean said as Seamus crossed the common room. "You leave Ginny out of this."

"I was talking about Draco and you know it," Seamus tossed back as he slipped into the staircase, but when he got to the dormitory door, he wasn't in time to stop it slamming shut. He barreled through before Harry could put a locking charm on it, and yet he was still surprised to see the end of Harry's wand pointed at him. "Er... Harry... Harry, do you want to talk about it?"

Harry blanched a bit, then sighed and gestured vaguely at one of the beds. He sat down, so Seamus followed him. Harry cast a few charms around them, then started talking.

"Snape just told me he's the one who set Voldemort on my parents in the first place. He wanted me and my dad to die, but he asked Voldemort to spare my mum's life."

Seamus sucked in a quick breath. "That's awfully twisted, mate. Why did he do that?"

Harry blinked. "There was a prophecy. You know, the one I told you about... from the... the Department of Mysteries... Snape heard part of it, and he told Voldemort about it. Voldemort worked out that it might have meant me or it might have meant..." Harry looked over at Neville's bed. "Might have meant Neville. He probably asked Voldemort to go after me in order to get rid of me and my dad."

Seamus pulled Harry into a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Harry... I guess this explains the way he used to treat you."

"But he was... he was so much better... and now he tells me this... I trusted him."

Seamus squeezed Harry, and tried not to act too surprised when Harry started to cry. When Dean walked in half and hour later, Seamus and Harry were stretched out on the bed, and Harry was still crying. "Get Draco," Seamus mouthed, pantomiming Draco's most recent long haircut.

+----+

"Oh. Oh, Merlin. What's happened?"

Draco crossed the dormitory and slipped into Seamus' place, giving the other boy a sympathetic look as he pillowed Harry's head on his chest. "Snape," Seamus said. "Harry, do you want--"

"You tell him," Harry managed. He had finally gotten his sobbing under control, but tears were still streaming from his eyes. Seamus explained the situation to Draco, and Draco's brow beetled dangerously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, questions, comments, recipes for three-meat surprise?


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuck Berry is a musical god. George Thorogood is also awesome.

Professor Snape had never, to anyone's knowledge, been hungover during classes. Neither, to anyone's knowledge, was he prone to drinking to excess in the first place. There should have been potions available to prevent any sort of severe symptoms, but there he sat at the head of the Potions classroom, his normal dark malice reduced to a death glare for anyone who varied from the instructions written on the blackboard. Neville Longbottom, unsettled by the Potionmaster's unusual behavior, was trembling so badly that he completely ruined his potion, but he ruined it quietly, and therefore received only an especially sharp glare and a croaked "ten points from Gryffindor, Longbottom."

When the rest of the fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors had shuffled out, Draco Malfoy remained behind, waving Blaise Zabini and Dean Thomas away. He didn't need to wave Harry Potter away; Potter hadn't even shown up for class. Granger had kept shooting faintly disapproving looks at the empty space next to Draco Malfoy.

"So," Draco said, loudly. Snape flinched. "What's cracked your famous control?"

Severus cringed, but made no reply.

"Harry says you told Voldemort to kill his dad." Draco stood up, waving his wand negligently at his things, which began to sort themselves out into their proper places in his bag. His hair, faded by then to a sort of mint-green color, and beginning to be in need of a haircut, swung forward to obscure his eyes as he glanced down at his feet, then he turned his eyes up again, and Severus regretted looking up when Draco's gaze was averted. He found himself caught by grey eyes that, though normally full of wit and intelligence, had gone ashy and cold.

Severus turned his face away. "I asked the Dark Lord to spare Lily Potter."

"Why didn't you ask him to spare anyone else?"

Severus didn't answer, and Draco rushed forward, his black Hogwarts robes and the red jumper he wore beneath them seeming to leap up at Severus. His hands slammed down on Severus' desk, not hard enough to be a gesture of uncontrolled anger, but flat as a pair of boards, producing a resounding smack that made Severus flinch. "Why, Professor Snape?"

Severus flinched again at hearing Draco speak to him so formally.

"I beg you, Draco, never to betray a friend. Lie, cheat, and manipulate others to get ahead, but do not betray the ones you care for. If Harry Potter should tire of you, and move on to another, and you should still desire him... do not act against the one he loves. Even if the one he loves is repulsive to you. If you were to send the death of Ronald Weasley, it would not bring Harry Potter back to you." Never once as he spoke did Severus look away from a blank spot on the wall that he seemed to have chosen as the only acceptable thing in the room to speak to.

Draco stared at Severus, and then he closed his eyes. Green hair curtained his face again. "Oh... Severus..."

+----+

Professor Snape made a few more attempts to get Harry to come to private lessons with him, but Harry refused to go, and when Sirius tried to talk to him about it, Harry ended the conversation and walked away. "You're lucky I've got him to go to Potions classes still," Draco told Sirius one day after a particularly entertaining Defense class. 

Harry seemed to be happy without the stress of his meetings with the dour Potions instructor, and he even started getting along with Weasley a little better. They would exchange tense, tight greetings if they met in the corridors outside of going from class to class, and once had a short conversation during breakfast. The same day as "The Conversation" (the way Seamus referred to it that afternoon during a break from a slightly manic study session clearly implied both quotation marks and capitalization), they caught Blaise snogging Lavender Brown in one of the secret passages. Harry went up to the Gryffindor common room with Draco's teasing jibes at his friend still in his ears.

"Really, it's not that bad, Lav," Seamus said. "I mean, I'd snog Blaise if he'd let me."

"I have snogged him," Dean put in.

Harry, Lavender, and Seamus all turned to stare at him. "When?" Harry exclaimed.

Dean smiled sardonically, and his chocolate skin flushed a little in embarrassment. "I met him in Hogsmeade once in third year. You know he's always been sorta decent, but a little stuck up. Well, Seamus, you were sick, stuck in the castle, and Draco wasn't hanging about with him, so it was just the two of us, and..." he shrugged. "We were screwing around, hanging out in the Hog's Head, he caught me checking out George Weasley's bum, and one thing led to another. He said I was a pretty good kisser for a boy."

"You're a pretty good kisser for anyone," Harry and Seamus shot back at once.

Lavender looked back and forth between the three of them. "You're taking the mickey."

"Nope" Dean said. "It was just the once, though."

"And how does Harry know how good a kisser you are?" Lavender asked.

Harry chuckled. "It was just the once, Lavender."

"Well, twice, really," Dean said, "but we were all really tired, so I don't know if that one really counts." he turned to the Fat Lady without breaking stride. "Lightshow."

The portrait swung open, and all four of them stopped short. Every single fifth and seventh year was studying intently. As exams approached, there were more and more nights like this. The Twins blamed it on Hermione, who did, in fact, usually start things off by studying so determinedly that a few other people began to feel guilty for not studying, and as more people studied, more succumbed to the pressure.

"Well," Seamus said, "I've had enough of thinking over potions ingredients, come on, Dean." He grabbed Dean and dragged him back out into the corridor. Harry waggled his eyebrows at Lavender, she blushed, and then it was all study. It was only a few weeks to exams, and Harry had nothing better to do than to study, so he picked a spot in the corner and stared at books until his head began to swim, at which point he went up to the dormitory. 

Weasley had escaped from Hermione at some point and was snoring loudly, facedown in his bed, and Neville was sleeping a little more quietly in his. Harry slipped into bed, curled up, and went to sleep with his clothes still on.

+----+

Dean Thomas woke up to Seamus' softly snoring body pressed warmly against him, but nothing to do with Seamus had awakened him: he was used to all of his boyfriend's little noises and nocturnal shufflings by then. It took him a moment to realized what had actually woken him.

There was a light in the room. Dean began to roll over, but found himself abruptly frozen in place. Seamus squeaked an came awake all at once, but given that he didn't move either, he must have been trapped as well.

A low chuckle sounded behind Dean. "I say we should kill the mudblood," a female voice said, dripping with madness.

"Patience, Bellatrix," a male voice replied. "We wish Potter frightened and cowed, not enraged. They'll both die once we're finished."

Footsteps sounded behind Dean, and a robed figure came around, his wand pointed. Lord Voldemort was tall, slender, and extremely pale, his dark-magic-ravaged face cold and expressionless. Seamus squeaked in terror, and Voldemort chuckled, but did not smile. "The halfblood is a weakling who ties himself to a mudblood. You'll start with him when I tell you." He raised his wand to point at his own temple. "You should feel privileged, children. It took me a long while to develop this spell I am about to use, and you will soon see only the third time it has ever been used. Quisque Somniata."

Lord Voldemort's eyes fixed on Dean's face, then on Seamus', then moved up to whoever was behind them, then shifted to take in the whole scene. He began to speak.

+----+

As Harry's vision roamed over Dean and Seamus, curled up naked, helpless, and frozen together,settled for a moment on Bellatrix Lestrange, holding her wand trained on the two lovers, he noted their wands lying on a table well out of their reach even if they could move. And then, he began to speak.

"Harry Potter," he said as he rolled his wand in his fingers. "As you can see, I have two of your friends. At this moment, my Death Eaters are keeping Albus Dumbledore well occupied away from Hogwarts." He reached into his robes and pulled out a sheet of parchment. 

The Marauders' Map displayed Hogwarts, faithfully doing its duty for whoever might decide to hold onto it.

"I had no idea anyone possessed such a useful item as this, but I am unsurprised to see it squandered by schoolchildren." His eyes focused on the little figure labeled with Harry Potter's name, tossing and turning in bed while Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom looked on.

"I'm sure you understand that I want the orb you retrieved from the Ministry of Magic not long ago. You are to go to Albus Dumbledore's office, retrieve the orb, and bring it to me in the Shrieking Shack. You will come alone. I will then release your little friends, take the orb, and most likely kill you. It's possible I will simply keep you and torture you for a time. If you do not have the orb when you arrive in the Shrieking Shack, I will force you to watch as Bellatrix tortures your friends into insanity. She is most efficient at it, and I assure you it will not take long. I have the Map. I will know if anyone follows you. If you do not leave your dormitory within ten seconds of waking up, I will kill your friends. If anyone follows you out of your dormitory close enough for you to talk to, I will kill your friends. Plan your route now."

There was a very long silence, and then Harry was thrust rudely and agonizingly back into the waking world. He gasped, threw up, but stood at the same time.

Harry rushed to his trunk, pulled his invisibility cloak out of it by a corner that hung from under the lid, and shouted, "Don't follow me!"

He rushed out of the dormitory, repeating his instructions under his breath, and saw Hermione looking up in bewilderment. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, drew his wand, and pushed the memory of the dream from his mind, until all he could remember was the instructions he whispered to himself on the stairs.

+----+

As Harry ran through the common room, swirling his invisibility cloak onto his shoulders, his wand tapped his head. Hermione's eyes followed the motion of his wand as something like mist or maybe liquid light flew from his head, clung to his wand, and then splatted to the floor. The portrait swung to behind Harry, and Hermione walked to what he had left behind on the floor. The sharp smell of vomit lingered in the air, and she prodded the silvery something on the floor suspiciously, barely turning to look as Ron and Neville came hurrying down the stairs. A couple of the other Gryffindors followed after them, and they all gathered around Hermione. Colin Creevey crouched to look at the misty something that sat on the floor. "What is it?" he asked.

Hermione prodded it with her wand, and it swirled and iridesced oddly. "It's a memory," she said. "Why would he leave a memory? Someone get me a flask."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may have broken Snape. Poor guy. Anyways, we're on the runup to the endgame of part 2 right now.
> 
> "Quisque Somnium" is Latin for "share my dream." I've chosen to assume that Voldemort uses a spell other than Legilimens to control Harry's dreams, since what he does to Harry's dreams is pretty specialized and doesn't seem to work quite the same as legilimency.
> 
> Of _course_ Hermione knows what it is. She studies everything voraciously and knows that Harry dreamed of the attack on Arthur as it was happening. She's probably stumbled on legilimency by accident by now.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elton John and Eric Clapton are right next to each other on my playlist. It makes for sort of a jarring transition.

Harry rushed through the corridors, working from memory and cursing himself for lending the Marauders' Map to Dean and Seamus, mostly to distract himself from the agony in his forehead. He spotted Filch ahead of him, and when the foul old caretaker looked up at the less-than-stealthy sound of running footsteps, Harry drew his wand and snapped "petrificus totalus!"

Filch toppled helplessly to the ground in mid-stride, and Harry vaulted over him, kicking a distressed Mrs. Norris as she meowed unhappily to her master. He sailed down a staircase that was swinging around to a new position, paused for a spare moment or two at the landing, and ducked into a secret passage that he knew came out near Dumbledore's office. His invisibility cloak swirled behind him as he turned the corner and stopped in front of Dumbledore's gargoyles. With the memory of whatever--he assumed it was a dream--had started the whole frantic run sitting on the common room floor, he had only the instructions he had whispered to himself on the stairs as a guide, but Hermione could be trusted to figure it all out. 

"I need to get through, and I don't have time to argue," Harry said.

"Then I suppose you'd better have the password," the gargoyle said.

+----+

A prefect was probably the only person who could get through the corridors at night without too much trouble, but Hermione still felt as though she was doing something terribly wrong. Harry's memory swirled chaotically in the little bottle she clutched in her hand, glowing and filled up with little bits of dust and hair it had picked up on the floor. She had no idea if that would affect the quality of the imagery, but she had to find out what Harry had wanted to show her.

She just wished that she'd had time to put on shoes before she went padding around the castle at three in the morning.

She spotted a form down the corridor, and a cat pacing nervously over it. Cautiously, Hermione approached, and she was just bending over Argus Filch when a voice behind her droned "I must admit I respect your intelligence more than to think you would stand over your victim for the five minutes since you incapacitated him, Miss Granger."

Hermione jumped and whirled around. Professor Snape stood above her, all greasy hair and whatever property it was that he possessed instead of charm. His eyes roamed disdainfully over her, and then abruptly stopped. For a moment, she thought the Potionmaster was staring at her chest, until he held out his hand. "Give me the memory, Miss Granger. Mister Filch will keep for now. I assume you got this from Mister Potter?"

Hermione nodded stiffly.

"Come with me."

+----+

The gargoyle stepped aside with a sort of bewildered look on its face. Harry suspected that Dumbledore would be less than happy about that many confundus charms being used on his doorkeeper, but Dumbledore could go hang: Dean and Seamus were in danger. Harry pelted up the spiral staircase even as it moved, and he burst into Dumbledore's office and made a beeline for the cabinets. Unlocking charms and summoning spells flew, but each cabinet he searched was another precious few moments gone. Panic started to grip him, and he searched at random, skipping places and knocking over tables with little instruments on them. The first sudden crash woke up one of the portraits on the wall, and the previous headmaster depicted in the portrait cried out "what are you doing, boy!?"

Harry whirled, wand out, and then explained, "I have to get a prophecy out here. Dumbledore brought one somewhere, and--"

"Third cabinet to the left," a haughty voice said, and Harry spotted a portrait of a man in very Slytherin colors, pointing to a cabinet. He rushed to it.

"Phineas, really!" one of the other portraits exclaimed.

"Well, he was destroying everything trying to find it," Phineas said as Harry managed to knock over yet another trinket with the opening door of the cabinet. As the portraits began to argue at top volume among themselves, Harry wished fervently that Fawkes was in the headmaster's office. He snatched the prophecy out of the cabinet where it sat next to the Sword of Gryffindor. He briefly considered taking the sword, but it would be no use against Voldemort. On the way out, he spotted Fawkes, apparently fresh from a burning, and swore. He wouldn't have put it past Voldemort to learn when the phoenix would be useless.

Harry slammed back out of the door and down the spiral staircase.

+----+

Severus Snape emerged from the pensieve and frowned softly at Granger. He couldn't even apologize, really. He stunned her and moved on, stalking through the school towards the front doors. The Dark Lord had chosen, for whatever reason, to set himself up in the Shrieking Shack. How he knew about the secret entrance, Severus wasn't sure, though he suspected Peter Pettigrew had something to do with it. Certainly _Severus_ had never seen fit to mention the place.

Harry would most likely still be trying to get into Dumbledore's office, and on that logic, Severus made his way up to the corridor where the entrance sat. He was a little impressed to find that Harry wasn't there, which meant that he must have gotten in already. That would most likely mean less acting.

The gargoyle that guarded the entrance was confused, but already shaking off the effects of the charms that Harry must have used to get past it. "Which way did he go?" Severus said, waving his wand to fully restore the guardian's sensibilities.

The gargoyle pointed.

+----+

Harry used a hex to still the Whomping Willow, hitting the knot on its trunk after the third try, and he ran pell-mell to the passage beneath its roots. When he dropped in, he found that it was a lower passage for a fifteen-year-old than a twelve-year-old. He crawled on hands and knees, and dirt and pebbles scraped against his palms. His fingers curled around the prophecy as he tried to come up with a plan to delay Voldemort long enough for help to arrive.

He emerged into the Shrieking Shack some time later without any real ideas except to have his wand out. 

The Shrieking Shack had been redone in reds and golds, the walls papered and the once-shredded furniture restored and covered in plush cushions and decadent pillows. As Harry made his slow way towards the room where Seamus and Dean were being held, his feet moved over deep, rich carpet in a tasteful color that somehow still managed to suggest the place was being used by a pair of teens for a love den. A few paintings hung on the wall, not moving, but beautiful anyway, framed with obvious care, but still clearly not by a professional. 

Harry found the main room dominated by a large bed, on which Dean and Seamus sat huddled together, naked and helpless. Lord Voldemort stood across the bed from Harry, and Bellatrix Lestrange, recognizable by the pictures the Daily Prophet had printed of her, smirked madly at Harry from a couch. The whole room smelled of sweat and laundry that really needed a wash. 

"Bellatrix," Voldemort said, consulting the Marauders' Map idly, as though he was reading the newspaper, "go and greet our guest."

"Of course, My Lord," she said, and she brushed past Harry.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then looked up at Voldemort. Pain flared in his scar, but he didn't dare hesitate. He held out his hand, and the prophecy glittered in his palm, as though it was excited to be in the same room with its subjects.

+----+

Severus had just got to the part of the passage to the Shrieking Shack where he could stand upright when Bellatrix Lestrange dropped into the far end of it. She trotted up to him. "The Dark Lord is irritated that you have come here. You weren't sent for."

He stared at her for a moment. "One of the other Gryffindors had a memory left by Potter in his flight. It would seem that he is capable of learning after all." Severus sneered. "Typical, for him to prove less than completely useless at the one task that is most likely to inconvenience us. It will not be long before one of the teachers learns he is missing. I can only assume Dumbledore has been removed for the evening?"

"He is chasing nonexistent werewolves across Wales."

+----+

Voldemort smiled viciously, and gestured with his wand to Dean and Seamus. They stood and crossed the room, and the instant they were out the door, Harry raised his wand.

"Excellent," Voldemort said. "I had hoped to be able to prove my strength against you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookie for anyone who guesses how this is gonna end!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy Joel... should not be such appropriate music for this chapter. If you have the album "Glass Houses" available, you might as well play it during the duel. It was playing for me.

"Do you know," Voldemort said conversationally, "how humiliating it is to have your power questioned by your underlings?" His wand came up, pointed almost lazily at Harry's face. "I have had to torture so many of them. They say nothing, but they believe me to be less than you. I explained it to them, of course, but what could make them believe?"

Harry allowed his hand to tremble. Rescue couldn't be far away, if he knew Hermione the way he thought he did, but he had to keep Voldemort distracted, and ignore the pain in his scar, and do a million other things that he could barely even keep straight. "I know your name," he said, because it was the first thing that came to mind. "You're not Lord Voldemort. Your name is Tom Riddle!"

Voldemort let out a scream of rage, and thrust his wand at Harry. Harry shouted a shield charm, and his wand seemed to come to life. The shield emerged as he had wanted, but then instantly broke. At first he thought that Voldemort's spell had simply crushed his defenses, but a light emerged from the tip of his wand, bright red and more focused than any spell he could ever recall casting. No agony ripped through him from whatever cruel spell Voldemort had tried to cast. Instead, Voldemort's own wand produced a green light, a ribbon of energy that rushed out and met the light from Harry's own wand.

Harry gasped as his wand began to vibrate in his hand. Where red light met green, a ball of light formed, and then two more on each side, along the energy that coursed between his wand and Voldemort's, and then another pair, closer to each of them. Droplets of pure light seemed to melt off of the magic between them, sizzling crazily on Dean and Seamus' bedclothes.

+----+

Severus followed calmly after Bellatrix, and noted Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan sitting curled up together in a corner before the flickering lights from the next room drew his eye. The door was half-closed, but Bellatrix rushed to it and flung it open. Severus' eyes went wide. Harry was dueling the Dark Lord. A schoolchild, actually dueling Lord Voldemort, and not losing, though he certainly couldn't be said to be winning, either. Severus didn't recognize the magic that wove between them, but it was, for the moment, a clear stalemate.

A stalemate that Bellatrix could no doubt break if she chose to attack Potter.

+----+

Harry's eyes flickered to the side as the door opened. He saw Severus Snape standing, apparently calm, if surprised, behind Bellatrix Lestrange. He snapped his attention back to his wand as more rays of light rushed out of the one that connected them. Golden beams, crisscrossing, arced out from each of their wands, leaping up and surrounding the dueling wizards. But the duel, Harry was certain, couldn't last much longer. His distraction had proved very nearly fatal, for during it, Voldemort had pushed the beads of light down towards Harry. The colors of their magic had grown more intense, Voldemort's green glowing almost silver, and Harry's red burning like fire, tinged with gold. Another golden strand joined those surrounding them, and Harry summoned up every ounce of resistance he could muster. The beads of light stopped sliding towards him and began, slowly, to slip back towards Voldemort.

+----+

"It would seem that our Lord has this covered," Severus said as Harry and Voldemort were half obscured by golden light.

"He needs help," Bellatrix objected.

"And you would dive into that mess?" Severus said.

Dean Thomas started up from where he sat huddled with Finnigan. Bellatrix's wand snapped at him and both boys were flung back hard against the wall. Severus made a note to punish the two for what they must have got up to in the Shrieking Shack if everyone made it back to Hogwarts alive, a prospect that was looking less and less likely by the second.

+----+

Harry dragged his left foot forward as the beads of light slipped towards Voldemort. His wand shook, and the shaking of his wand shook his arm so badly that he had to grab it with his other hand, letting the prophecy fall from his hand to the shag carpet and slowly walking his grip up to the handle, both hands wrapped around the wood. When the fingers of his left hand touched his wand, Harry was startled to discover that it was hot. Voldemort's silver-green magic pushed back, and Harry yelled and threw more of himself into his resistance. He took another step, closing the distance between them, and Voldemort hissed and stepped forward. Harry stumbled, three hard steps to the left, and his hip collided with the bedside table. A few little objects rattled against his side, and Voldemort pushed Harry's magic back so far that the first orb of light nearly struck the tip of his wand.

+----+

"He's dropped the prophecy!" Bellatrix cried, and her wand pointed at the orb on the floor. "Accio!"

"Incarcerous," Severus said, and before the prophecy could get halfway to Bellatrix, ropes sprang from Severus' wand and wrapped around Bellatrix.

She turned a murderous gaze on Severus, flipped her wand upwards, and the ropes shredded and frayed, then flew towards him as a shower of strands. Thomas and Finnigan let out sudden yells and scrambled behind a couch as Bellatrix advanced. Severus slashed his wand through the air, leaving curtains of smoke behind to conceal his dive to the left. He touched the tip of his wand to one of Bellatrix's threads, and they burned all at once, leaving her just dazzled enough that she didn't see him right away when he came up on her left. 

"Avada--" Severus cried, but Bellatrix spun and took advantage of the tight quarters to smash a fist into his face. A spray of blood rushed from Severus' nose and he relled back, summoning a chair from across the room. The chair exploded under Bellatrix's follow-up killing curse, but it was enough to save his life.

+----+

Harry gritted his teeth, pushing physically against Voldemort's magic, forcing it back inch by inch and refusing to budge. Voldemort was clearly putting just as much physical effort into his own attempts to push back. Harry adjusted his grip, and found that he couldn't take his hands off his wand even if he tried. For a panic-filled moment, he wondered if he and Voldemort would be trapped like this, dueling until one of them died of exhaustion. The beads of light slipped back towards Harry, and he put the thought out of his mind and roared his rage and defiance at Voldemort. 

One of the beads finally, finally reached the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry could see Voldemort's wand go from shaking to rocking back and forth, nearly breaking the connection between their two wands, even as Harry's wand vibrated less powerfully. A ghostly image wavered out of Voldemort's wand, a hazy impression of the room around them. Another bead of light entered Voldemort's wand, and more images emerged from it, household objects and flames, all too pale and misty to stay visible for long, and then... then a human figure emerged. A woman Harry didn't recognize. Her hazy eyes fixed on him, then on Voldemort.

"You're Harry Potter," she said, and then, seeming more certain of herself, she very nearly growled, "you fight him, Harry Potter!"

+----+

Severus rolled to the right and transfigured the carpet beneath him into oil. The wave of transformation spread, and Bellatrix cried out as her footing vanished completely. Severus pointed his wand before she could adapt to the new circumstances and cast a banishing charm on one of her shoes. She came down with a thud, but rolled, now sporting her own broken nose. Her wand rose to point at Severus, and she screamed.

"CRUCIO!"

Severus howled in pain, but fought through, rolling to the side and casting a weak spell in return. Bellatrix's legs went into a mad dance and she dropped to the floor again, but the time she spent canceling the spell on herself, time Severus could normally have used to ensure his victory, he spent instead recovering from the agony of the cruciatus curse.

+----+

A second figure emerged from Voldemort's wand, this one a goblin. "Take my vengeance for me, boy!" he insisted, and Harry leaned further into the duel, pushing a third bead into Voldemort's wand. The central light was nearly to Voldemort, and another figure emerged, following on the tail of a silvery form that looked something like a human hand. This one, Harry recognized, though he couldn't place her. She shook her head, and then puffed herself up a little. 

"Fight him, Harry Potter," she urged as a shabbily dressed old man followed her out of Voldemort's wand, and then the central light touched, just barely, the tip of Voldemort's wand.

Two more shades emerged from Voldemort's wand, one after the other. "Harry," one said, and Harry's heart seemed to stop for a moment. That voice was his mothers, though he only recognized it from Dementor-induced visions of her death, and the face... the last two figures were his parents.

Harry's father floated to his side. "Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly. We won't have long to keep him occupied after you break the connection."

"My brave boy," his mother whispered. "I'm so proud."

The last of Voldemort's green light vanished back into his wand.

+----+

Bellatrix got to her feet.

Severus didn't. He swept his hand across the floor in a circle and watched as the oil splashed onto Bellatrix. She flinched, then yelled as he dipped his wand into the slippery stuff and hissed "incendio."

Flames shrieked across the space between them, spread across the floor, and stopped only at the edges of Severus' transfiguration. The flames wreathed him as well, but he was expecting them, and that made all the difference. Despite the pain, despite the flames licking at his wand, he aimed at the writhing form of Bellatrix Lestrange and yelled "avada kedavra!"

A jet of green light rushed from his wand and tossed the burning witch backwards onto the floor. Severus Snape dropped to the floor as the oil burned away, leaving a ring of fire on the floor.

+----+

Harry watched as the shades of Voldemort's victims swept towards their murderer, took a deep breath, and wrenched his wand away from the ribbon of light that connected him to Voldemort. His left hand snapped down onto the bedside table he had crashed into, and even as he flung his own wand away from him, its motion too much for him to control, his fingers closed around another, and he brought it up and screamed, at the top of his lungs, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A bright green light thumped into Voldemort's chest as the shades vanished. The Dark Lord slumped to the floor, but even as he fell, he seemed to dissolve, and his suddenly-empty robes burned half away before they settled to the floor. Crackling flames behind him turned Harry's head.

Dean Thomas was peering around the doorjamb. Harry looked down at the wand in his hand. He recognized it as Dean's, and tossed it to the other boy, going to scoop up his own. Dean rushed across the floor, and Harry heard him starting to cast a spell to put out fires.

Harry stepped through the door as though he was lost in a dream, and goggled at the curled-up form of Severus Snape, lying across from his still-burning opponent. Dean finished putting out the fires, and Harry slumped against the doorjamb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I waffled a bit on who was going to actually kill Voldemort. The deciding factor, I think, was mostly that Dean and Seamus couldn't reach a weapon and there was no way Severus would have moved so injudiciously. You can be fairly certain that that's the only time Harry will ever use the killing curse. Him doing that has pretty much completely turned him away from ever considering a career as an auror. He definitely hates that he was capable of casting it, even in a moment of extreme stress like that. 
> 
> What's really messed up is that after all that, there's at least a few more chapters of this, and then a couple more parts to this fic.
> 
> Voldemort is... he's difficult to kill.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three. night shifts. In a row.
> 
> It'd be a lot easier if I'd had some sort of warning instead of finding out it was happening the day before the first one.

Seamus hurtled into Harry before he could really absorb what he had done, and Harry was wrapped up in the other boy's arms and showered with enthusiastic little kisses that landed all over his face. "You did it!" Seamus cried. "You killed him!"

Harry pushed him away. "Seamus, don't."

Seamus leaned back, looking mildly abashed, and then padded into the bedroom. A faint smell of ozone from the intense magical energies of only a moment before mingled with the odor of burnt flesh and cloth, turning the air foul even under the layer of smoke that clung to the ceiling. As Seamus emerged from the bedroom with his and Dean's clothes, Professor Snape let out a harsh, pained hissing sound. Harry's head snapped around and he stared at the Potions teacher. He scrambled to his feet and knelt by Professor Snape's side. "Professor!"

"Harry," Professor Snape croaked. "I am sorry, Harry."

Harry reached out, but stopped short of touching the burned skin on his teacher's face. "Professor, don't try--"

"I have owed you a debt that I cannot repay," Professor Snape interrupted. "I only hope that you accept my efforts... as an honest attempt..."

"Professor, you'll be okay," Harry said. He searched desperately for some place where he could lay a hand on the man, offer some sort of comfort without hurting him, but there was none. Tears began to well up in Harry's eyes.

"I will not survive," Professor Snape began, but he got no further than that. Harry looked up and his eyes went wide. Albus Dumbledore's wand was pointed at Professor Snape. The old headmaster hurried to the Potionmaster's side and began to cast spell after spell over him. Sirius emerged from the tunnel after him, and Professor Mcgonagall after him, trailing Madam Pomfrey behind her, who rushed to Dumbledore's side and began working her own healing spells over Professor Snape.

"Harry," Sirius exclaimed, rushing to embrace his godson.

"I'm all right," Harry said. He looked up, and met Professor Dumbledore's eyes over Snape's prone form before Sirius hauled him to his feet. 

"Come on, Harry," Sirius urged, and Harry took two faltering steps, turned, and rushed to retrieve the prophecy. He looked over at Voldemort's robe with a shudder as his hand wrapped around the glass ball the Dark Lord had wanted so badly. Harry turned again and hurried out of the room. Professor Dumbledore was just leaning back from Professor Snape.

"Is he... is he going to die, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I believe we have arrived in time to save his life, although his wounds are severe." He looked at Seamus and Dean, who had, by then, managed to get some clothes on. "Take Mister Thomas and Mister Finnigan back to the castle please, and then wait in my office with Sirius."

Harry nodded, and he and Sirius went back to the castle with Seamus and Dean trailing behind them. They walked in silence, punctuated by Dean's harsh breathing. Dean and Seamus split off in the Entrance Hall, and Harry and Sirius went to Professor Dumbledore's office. The instant he saw a chair waiting for him, Harry collapsed into it and began to weep, and Sirius wrapped his arms around him and just held him until Harry fell asleep.

+----+

"Severus?" Sirius asked when Albus walked into the room two hours later. Sirius had transfigured Harry's chair into a soft, if somewhat small, bed, and Harry was sleeping comfortably, wrapped around the prophecy.

"Severus lives," Albus confirmed, "and I have been a fool."

"Albus!" Sirius scolded. "You couldn't have known--"

"Not that," Albus said, waving his hand. "My error was made with Harry. I have held him at arm's length out of fear, and if Voldemort demonstrated anything tonight, it is that he could not control Harry. I have been stupid, Sirius."

Sirius walked over and hugged Albus tightly to him. "You have never been stupid in your life," Sirius said. He leaned back to look at Albus, and a smile quirked up at the corner of his mouth. He leaned forward and kissed the end of Albus' nose. "I will concede that you've acted stupidly, though."

A soft noise from behind them made Sirius turn his head. Harry had just sat up. "Draco was right," he said. "You two are--"

Sirius held his finger to his lips, and Harry blushed a bit. Albus extracted himself from Sirius' arms and closed the space between himself and Harry. "Harry, I owe you an apology. I have been distant, because--"

"I heard, Professor," Harry said. "Maybe if you'd been more honest, nobody would have been hurt. Is Professor Snape okay?"

Albus nodded. "Severus is resting in the infirmary, though I daresay we'll be needing a new Potions instructor anyway. Madam Pomfrey doubts that he will be able to resume teaching. Harry, it is vitally important that I know. Did Voldemort say anything to you before he fled?"

Harry blinked. "He... Professor, he didn't run away. I killed him."

Albus rocked back on his heels so that Sirius thought for a moment he was about to fall. He had rarely seen Albus surprised, but at that news, Sirius suspected a light breeze would have toppled him. "Killed him, Harry?"

Harry nodded, and Albus's face fell. All traces of joviality seemed to melt away. "If there is no corpse, then I am confident he is not truly vanquished. Harry, please, give me the prophecy."

Harry handed it over. Albus replaced it in its cabinet, cast several spells over it, and turned to face Harry again.

 _"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."_ Albus sighed, fixing Harry with a sharp look. "That, Harry, is the contents of that orb. A prophecy, a true prophecy, made by Sybill Trelawney, to me, before you were ever born. I was interviewing her for the position of Divination instructor. She is the great-great granddaughter of a renowned seer, but I meant to inform her that I was eliminating the entire Divinations department. It was only because of her ancestor that I had agreed to see her in the first place, and I must confess that I believed her to be deluded at best and a fraud at worst, until she began to deliver that prophecy. Severus Snape heard the beginning of it, and delivered the news to his master. Lord Voldemort was acting on it when he killed your parents, but I have suspected since his return that he believed the full prophecy would teach him how to defeat you."

"You said you don't think he's gone?" Harry said.

Albus nodded. "Lord Voldemort cheated death once before, and I believe that he has done so again. Clearly he has a way to preserve his soul when his body is destroyed. I have suspicions as to what that way might be, but no concrete proof. I intend to investigate. You have, after all, bought us some time. But mark my words, Harry. Lord Voldemort will return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Some crazy stuff is gonna happen after this. I'm not sure how many chapters we are from the end of part 2, but its not a lot.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a good cup of tea and writing about the smell of burnt flesh!

Harry made only one stop on the way to the common room, but it was a long diversion.

The stench of burnt flesh had been cleared out of the Shrieking Shack, probably by the efforts of Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey, or maybe Professor Mcgonagall. Bellatrix Lestrange had been removed as well, but the bedroom had been left as it was before. Harry nudged Voldemort's fallen robes with his toe, and he sighed. "Pettigrew was here," Harry said.

Sirius frowned. He hadn't crossed into the bedroom when Harry did. He was obviously trying to look like he hadn't a care in the world, leaning against the doorjamb, but the way even his toes were carefully not in the bedroom declared his nervousness. He didn't want to step in the room where Voldemort had fallen for the second time, as though the malicious shade of the Dark Lord was lingering in there, instead of, presumably, out wandering around looking for a way to revive himself again. 

"How do you know that?" Sirius asked.

"Voldemort's wand isn't here. I remember it wasn't destroyed with his body, so someone must have come in and taken it. Had to have been Pettigrew. He could have got in unseen, and retrieved it easily enough. I mean, that's only if there's anti-apparation jinxes up..."

Sirius nodded. "Albus put them up in the tunnel. Nobody could have apparated into here."

Harry nodded stiffly. "Pettigrew, then. If we had Voldemort's wand, we could have tried that spell that shows you what a wand's done before. I don't know how far back you can check with it, but I'm sure someone could have got a long way back. Would have been useful."

Sirius shrugged. Harry turned and headed back out of the room. "You're not fooling me," he said. "You're bloody nervous."

Sirius sighed gustily. "Of course I am. Voldemort's still out there."

"No helping it," Harry pointed out. "Voldemort's out there, we know he'll be back, and so do the Death Eaters, probably. We can't destroy him until we find out how, he can't really move against us until he has a new body, so there's not really any point worrying too much about it."

Sirius plodded along behind Harry, and Harry managed to keep from weaving around out of exhaustion the whole way back to the castle and up to the common room. 

It was six in the morning, but the Gryffindor common room was far from empty. Draco, Blaise, Gregory, and Daphne were there, too, Blaise holding onto Lavender Brown. As soon as Harry stepped through the portrait-hole, Draco rushed forward and hugged him. 

"Are you all right?" Draco asked. Harry nodded stiffly. 

For a few moments, as Sirius closed the portrait, the common room was silent. Apparently, there was to be no scolding for the students from Slytherin in the Gryffindor common room. Looking around, Harry spotted a few other students, from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and even a few more faces from Slytherin, though none that he knew were associated with the Death Eaters. 

Nobody seemed to be breathing, as though for fear that Harry would deliver some crushing news.

Weasley broke the silence. "What's going on?"

"We heard Professor Snape was killed!" Justin Finch-Fletchley exclaimed. 

"Did you really kill You-Know-Who?" Lee Jordan asked.

"Dean and Seamus said Bellatrix Lestrange was there," Neville said, and then it was all just a wash of uninterpretable noise until Harry held his hand up for silence.

"Professor Snape is alive, but he's in the infirmary. Professor Dumbledore says he's not likely to be able to teach again. He killed Bellatrix Lestrange in a duel while I was dueling Voldemort. I... I killed Voldemort, only Dumbledore reckons he'll be back again." Harry took a deep breath, and hating the half-hopeful, half-terrified looks on everyone's faces, he went on, "I agree. Voldemort is probably going to be back, but we know what to look for, and we'll be ready when he does. We're not getting caught off-guard by him again."

Draco stood up tall beside Harry. Harry squeezed his hand, then stepped forward until he was right in front of Weasley. He swallowed. "Ron, you don't like me, and I don't particularly like you, but... when Voldemort comes back, I'm going to do everything I can to pay him back for what he did to your dad." Harry turned to look at Neville. "Neville, you don't have to worry about Bellatrix Lestrange anymore, either. You ought to go and thank Professor Snape for that tomorrow."

Harry looked around. "Blaise, there's an extra bed in the boy's dormitory for the fifth years. Anyone else that's not a Gryffindor will have to grab a place to sleep on the floor. Fred, George, you're good at transfigurations. Our guests will need beds."

Everyone started moving. Harry closed his eyes. He was awake, and if there was anything else he needed to do, he had to think of it quickly. He started towards the stairs to the dormitory, then swore softly as Draco caught up with him.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Owlery," Harry replied. "We have a letter to write."

+----+

The front page of the Daily Prophet was taken up by the massive headline **YOU-KNOW-WHO DEFEATED AGAIN** , with a huge, somewhat-bewildered-looking photograph of Harry underneath it next to a sub-headline about his defeating Voldemort in a duel.

The more important article was tucked into the corner. 

_Dark Lord Likely to Return, Warns Potter_

_Last night, our world was made safer once again by the efforts of Harry  
Potter, along with Hogwarts Potions professor Severus Snape. But a  
letter received late in the morning by_ Special Correspondent Rita   
Skeeter, _delivered dramatically by a snow white owl known to_  
belong to Harry Potter, warns that the threat we have faced this last  
year may not be entirely eliminated yet.

_The letter, printed in its entirety on the next page, tells of the dramatic_  
and unusual duel between the Boy Who Lived and He-Who-Must-Not-  
Be-Named, but also contains a dire warning. 

_"He came back once, and we haven't found out how, let alone done_  
anything to keep him from doing it again," Potter explains to the Prophet.  
"I used the killing curse to stop him, but his body vanished. That doesn't  
happen normally when someone is hit with the killing curse. Of course  
everyone should be celebrating, but we should all remember that this  
is probably just a temporary break." 

_Potter's warning comes at a time when all of Wizarding England almost_  
certainly doesn't want to hear anything like it, but he stresses that we   
must remain vigilant. 

_"There are a few known Death Eaters who we can safely check. Their_  
Dark Marks are the first sign we have. Professor Dumbledore has told me  
that the Dark Mark will have faded by now, so if a Death Eater's Dark Mark  
begins to show more clearly and darker, [You-Know-Who] is nearly ready  
to return," Potter writes, and indications are that there is a list of other  
things to watch for coming. 

_This reporter, for one, hopes that Harry Potter is wrong, will be erring on  
the side of vigilance anyway._

Albus sighed and looked across the Great Hall at Harry. Harry raised a glass of pumpkin juice in a mock-toast. "It would seem Harry has decided there will be no secrets," Albus said. 

Sirius shrugged. "I can't really blame him, Albus. You might as well send what you know to the Prophet. At least as far as how to tell that Voldemort's coming back." He paused for a moment. "I'd also like to note that you just got outmaneuvered by my godson."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just leave this here for now...


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Styx knows how to music. This is a fact, and one to which the whole world should really just resign itself.

Harry sat down next to the infirmary cot and tried to ignore the faint aroma of seared flesh that clung to Severus Snape. The Potionmaster turned his head, and Harry managed not to flinch. He recognized that, if it wasn't for the magic that had been used to hold him to life, Professor Snape would have been dead, but he hadn't been prepared for the ways in which magic couldn't help the man. The scars, he knew, would probably fade in time, but as severe as they were, he would always be disfigured. 

"I read the letter you sent to Skeeter," Professor Snape said. He looked at Draco, sitting beside Harry. "I assume you worked together on it."

Harry nodded. "I couldn't have done it alone," he said.

"It was his idea," Draco said. "I only helped with the wording."

The tiniest flicker of a smile flashed across what was left of Professor Snape's lips. 

"Are you going to be okay, Professor?" Harry asked.

Professor Snape sighed. "Eventually. Madam Pomfrey tells me that I'll never walk again."

Harry leaned forward and embraced the Potions Professor. Professor Snape let out a little hiss of pain before Harry adjusted his grip, but he hesitantly returned the embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," Harry said. "I... I should have let you explain--"

"No, Harry," Professor Snape interrupted, letting go so that Harry could sit upright in his chair. "Your anger with me was... justified. It is no less than the anger I feel at myself every day. You mother... Lily was as dear to me, dearer even, than my own life. I wished your father dead. For years. Jealousy, and anger, were... I am an angry man, Harry, and my greatest regret is that I allowed myself to sink so deeply into my anger with James Potter. I sank so deeply that I wished his child dead as well. When you survived the Dark Lord's assault, I was horrified. That the last reminder I should have of Lily should so resemble the man I had hated so deeply... I came to know you over the last two years, though... You have all of the best qualities of your mother, and few of the worst of your father." One mangled hand covered Harry's, and a few tears leaked from Professor Snape's left eye, though his right seemed not to be able to spill any. "You have your mother's eyes, Harry."

Harry swallowed. "Tell me about her, Professor," he implored quietly.

No one objected when Harry got into the common room well after midnight.

+----+

At the next Hogsmeade weekend, the aurors were far more obviously present than they had been before. "They're trying to make up for their failure before," Dean said, leaning over to Seamus in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop.

"They're watching for Death Eaters trying to get revenge," Seamus replied.

"They're trying to look cool so they can recruit Harry," Dean shot back.

"I'll recruit Harry any day," Seamus said.

"I still can't believe you missed seeing him bring down You-Know... V-Voldemort."

Seamus leaned over and kissed Dean, then looked back out the window, and very nearly spat his tea all over it. "What on earth has Draco done!"

"Something inadvisable, obviously," Dean said.

"It's too much," Seamus agreed. "I'll go talk to him."

Dean pulled Seamus back into his seat before he could really get out of it, and then reached out and knocked on the glass. Harry and Draco turned, and both smiled. There were packages and bags gathered under Harry's arms, which he nearly fumbled on the way in the door. Madam Puddifoot herself gasped and started stumbling over herself to try and serve the Boy Who Lived ("oh, goodness, her in my shop and me never thinkin' to clean up special for the Hogwarts students, what will I do") as Harry and Draco sat across the table from Dean and Seamus.

Dean pointed his wand.

"Get rid of it or I'll hex it off."

Draco glanced at Harry, then sighed. "I thought he'd look marvelous with it."

"It is sort of fun," Harry said. "But I suppose it's a bit inconvenient." He reached up and flattened down the electric-blue mohawk Draco had talked him into. "You know, he wanted me to shave the sides completely away," Harry added.

"I told you I was joking," Draco said. "If you did that, what would I hold onto when we're shagging?"

"My shoulders, like always," Harry suggested.

Draco frowned. "I knew it wasn't going to last long, but I was hoping for at least a day," he huffed.

"Nope," Seamus said cheerfully, reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair. "I like what you've done with yours, though. Really metallic. Like you've got silver and gold all over your head."

"It's incredibly sexy," Dean agreed. "Wish I could pull it off."

"You wish you could pull everything off of him," Harry pointed out.

"Can I?" Dean asked.

Seamus kicked him under the table.

"Well, it would give us something to do besides dodging aurors who think they'll convince me to sign up," Harry said consideringly.

Madam Puddifoot arrived with two cups just as Harry, Draco, Seamus, and Dean got up to leave. She found quite a large tip waiting for her, though, so she called it good.

+----+

After all the excitement beforehand, exams were something of an anticlimax. While everyone else was freaking out about getting enough O.W.L.s to get into whatever career they wanted, Harry found himself comparing the tests to fighting Voldemort, and really, he couldn't have been less impressed. Somehow, it just wasn't the least bit intimidating. He was certain he'd aced his Defense exam, and fairly confident that he'd done well enough in potions, which Professor Dumbledore had taken over teaching for want of a replacement for Professor Snape. As interesting as the change was, Harry sincerely hoped it was temporary; there had been seven exploded cauldrons in the last month.

The Weasley Twins spent the last day at Hogwarts moping loudly about how they were dreadfully afraid they'd done well on their N.E.W.T.s, but Harry wasn't fooled: anything they'd gotten O.W.L.s in was something they actually cared about learning. On the way to the Howarts Express, Harry caught up with them. "Fred, George!"

They both turned, and one, who Harry suspected for no particular reason to be George, started up their reply.

"Harry! So good to see you!"

"You haven't had another row with Ickle Ronniekins, have you?"

"If you have, we're obligated--"

"contractually required, really--"

"to pretend we're not pleased about it."

"No," Harry said, "it's nothing like that. Actually, I was just wondering if you had any plans for... you know, for your joke shop."

The twins looked at each other. "Why do you ask?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Everyone keeps saying I should become an auror. I was thinking of doing something that's as far removed from that as I can, and I was wondering if you had any positions open."

Fred and George both blinked rapid-fire, then broke into identical grins. "Well, Harry," Fred began, "there's a few things--"

"capital, premises, and the like--"

"that we need before we can really think about taking on employees."

"We'd need to be making a real profit, of course,"

"but I bet having you telling people--"

"in all honesty, naturally--"

"how good our products are would help."

Harry nodded. "I can do that. I'll get Sirius to invite you out over the summer. We'll talk more then."

The twins looked like they'd been given early Christmas gifts as they got on the train, and Harry hurried off to find a compartment. Draco, Dean, and Seamus were sitting with Luna Lovegood. Harry sat down next to Draco.

"Talked to the twins, then?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "Sirius will be delighted, I'm sure."

+----+

These times, Sirius reflected, were the times when he most appreciated Remus. Harry was off at Malfoy Manor, presumably making the most of his youthful stamina, Albus was overseas, investigating rumors coming out of Albania, and if it weren't for Remus, he would undoubtedly be quite lonely.

Not that they were exactly having fun. Sorting through the last, and least dangerous, of the dark objects left over from his family wasn't really either man's idea of a rollicking good time. But they could go out drinking tomorrow.

"Ugh!" Remus cried, smashing a preserved spider that had come to life and started trying to bite him. 

Sirius hit it with the most powerfully destructive spell he dared to use indoors. It burst open and covered the kitchen table in shreds of unpleasantness. "Well," Remus said, "That's that, then."

Sirius shrugged and reached across the table to grab the last thing they hadn't sorted out yet.

"What's that," Remus asked.

"Not a clue. It registered as dark when the movers came through, but as far as I can tell, you're only supposed to not wear it. Almost a little tempted to keep it."

Remus reached out and took the chunky locket from Sirius' hands. "Borgin and Burke's, Sirius. You're not keeping any of these things here." He glanced curiously at it. "What's inside?" He tried futilely to pry it open, but it didn't budge in the least.

"Not a clue," Sirius replied. "Sort of an almost-nice design, though. Draco'd like it. It's got a snake on, after all."

"You are not giving a cursed locket to Harry's boyfriend," Remus scolded.

"Oh, come on," Sirius protested. "It's jinxed. Hexed, at worst."

Remus arched one eyebrow, and Sirius sighed. "Oh, all right. We sell it, with all the other boring stuff that won't hurt anybody not dumber than a bag of spoons."

Remus tossed the locket into the box for things harmless enough to be sold. Sirius gave it a slightly regretful look, but shrugged and closed up the box. The next morning, he took it to Borgin and Burke's, then stopped in at Florean Fortescue's with Remus, happy to eat a bowl of ice cream without worrying about Voldemort coming around the corner to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.... that first scene... yikes.
> 
> Man, those four just keep fucking. I think it might be an inherent property of theirs.
> 
> It took me a long time to figure out what Harry was going to do for a living.
> 
> Well, that's the end of part 2. Expect part 3 after I'm done with part 4 of my other work (Teddy Lupin and the Fifth Tower), which has between ten and twenty chapters left to go, probably.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna put this right here: COMMENT! PLEASE, COMMENT! 
> 
> IT'S SO LONELY ON THE INTERNET WITH ONLY HALF OF HUMANITY FOR COMPANY!
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed whatever chapter we're up to by now.


End file.
